


Your Case or Mine

by miamoretti



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, Captain Swan AU - Freeform, Detective AU, F/M, Fake Marriage, Plot Twists, Smut with a plot, Undercover as a Couple, captain swan smut, cs angst, cs cops au, cs criminal minds au, cs fbi au, cs smut, cs snark, cs undercover au, scarlet swan brotp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 101,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miamoretti/pseuds/miamoretti
Summary: Detective Emma Swan is one of Boston Homicide's finest. Killian Jones is head of the FBI team who swoops in to take jurisdiction when multiple homicides sharing similarities with her current case pop up out of state. But they'll have to learn to work together to lure out their killer when they're required to go undercover. As a married couple. CS Cops/Undercover/Fake Marriage AU.(Also on FFnet)





	1. Chapter 1

Detective Emma Swan was one of Boston PD's finest. Her co-workers both feared and admired her, and her near-perfect record when it came to securing arrests and charges spoke for itself. She had grafted her way to the position she held now, and had only recently received her detective badge, so she was more eager than ever to successfully close her current case and prove to herself and everyone else that she was up to the job. As the youngest detective – and one of the only female detectives to boot – that Boston PD had ever had, she did feel a certain amount of pressure, but more than anything she was determined not to let David down.

He was the reason she'd joined the police to begin with, and even though she'd now been on the force for almost nine years, it felt like hardly any time had passed at all. She'd been eighteen years old, working as a bailbondsperson, when she'd met David. He was a rookie cop, on track to make sergeant, and she was a familiar face thanks to all the bail skips she regularly apprehended and dropped off at the precinct.

When she'd shown up late one night, looking more than a little worse-for-wear with a rapidly developing black eye, torn jeans and bust knuckles, dragging a handcuffed guy almost double her size behind her, he'd been equal parts horrified and impressed. She was just a tiny slip of a kid, yet she could clearly handle herself, even if it meant taking a few hits in the process. When he'd asked her if she was okay, gesturing to her face and ripped clothes, she'd offhandedly said that she'd had worse from foster parents. That had always stuck with him.

When she'd slammed her paper down on his desk and gruffly asked him to sign it so that she could get paid, he'd eyed her carefully for a moment and casually asked how old she was. Emma had stared at him suspiciously, guard up, and asked why it mattered. He'd shrugged and signed her paper, but before handing it back to her, he'd suggested that if she was over nineteen, she should consider joining the force.

Emma had scoffed and snatched her paper, telling him matter-of-factly that she couldn't afford college, and barely had her high school diploma. David had simply smiled and informed her there were plenty ways around that for people who would clearly be an asset to the department. She'd eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, but snapped herself out of it and shrugged noncommittally, backing toward the doors and waving her paper with a murmur of thanks and a 'see you around'.

Everytime she'd shown up with her bounty after that, David had encouraged her to fill out the applications ('because what did she have to lose?') and eventually, she'd given in, snatching the application pack he'd tried to give her a handful of times previously, with a roll of her eyes that belied the small glimmer of hope David knew he'd seen a momentary flash of, before she'd disappeared again.

David had pushed for her to be at least given a trial run and though his superior at the time had been somewhat reluctant, he'd wearily agreed to take her on with a probationary period once she'd turned nineteen. Emma had suspected David's involvement in her being offered the entry-level position, but he never mentioned it so she never asked. She'd worked her ass off to prove herself, and had managed to impress the powers that be, landing her a quick rise in rank to 'official' rookie, and from there she'd steadily progressed to her current position of detective in Boston PD's homicide investigation unit.

Emma loved her job, even when it meant being partnered with the self-proclaimed bane of her existence, Will Scarlet, for the last few years. Despite being dopey and, on occasion, an outright liability, he was a decent cop. David had partnered him up with her when he'd joined the precinct, ignoring all of her protestations and pleas against that idea, hoping that she'd be a good influence on the loose cannon. At first, and to his credit, he'd attempted to be on his best behaviour, but that soon became too much of an effort when he realized she wasn't going to fall under the spell of his rough British accent or his shoddy attempts at flirting. So he'd settled for taking up the role of 'annoying younger brother' and excelled at it.

As much as she was sure her eyes were about ready to roll out of her head because of him most days, she'd eventually warmed to him and the two had finally developed an easy partnership. It mostly consisted of them berating one another, served with a side of scathing banter and snarky innuendos, but it worked.

When new cases came in, Emma would throw herself wholeheartedly into them and Will would tag along behind, looking like her adorable assistant until her smart mouth and unforgiving tenacity got her into sticky situations. It was those situations in which Will stepped up to the plate, making it look surprisingly easy as he smoothly extricated them both from trouble. She never said thank you, but there was always a Poptart waiting on his desk the next day.

Over the years since she'd joined the department, she'd slowly come to realize that she finally had the family she'd craved and dreamed of as a child. Sure, it wasn't conventional, but she had an over-protective father figure in David, and his wife Mary-Margaret was more than willing to play the doting mother role with her. She had an annoying younger brother in Will, and a whole bunch of wise older brothers in the other detectives. She was the only woman in homicide, and even though that made her feel as though she needed to prove herself capable of being just as badass as the boys, it also meant that she could rely on the majority of them to have her back should she need more backup than just her own partner.

But because the unit was so tight-knit, they quite often didn't take kindly to outsiders coming in to consult on cases. 'Outsiders' usually meaning the FBI. Being a big city homicide department, they did occasionally have to tolerate the presence of the feds stealing the reins of cases that crossed into federal jurisdiction, but Emma hadn't had to deal with them thus far. She'd heard the grumbles from other detectives when their cases had been commandeered, however. And she knew if any of her cases was ever 'stolen', she wouldn't be letting it go easily.

The case she was currently working on was hitting a little close to home for her, but even so, she was determined to see it through. A 35-year old woman, Taryn Wheeler, from Beacon Hill had been brutally murdered in her home, her heart removed post-mortem, the killer taking it as a souvenir. There were no signs of a struggle and the alarm system had not been triggered or tampered with, but the locks of the back door had been scratched, and all the photos in the house had been turned face down. Emma had deduced that the killer or killers had likely made themselves familiar enough with Taryn's daily routine that they had broken into her home, disabled the alarm and laid in wait for her return, taking her by surprise with a frenzied attack and turning all photographs face down before they left with their victim's heart.

Taryn and her husband, Patrick, seemingly had no enemies and were well-liked in the community. Patrick was a businessman, who was away in Europe for work purposes at the time of the murder and who had quickly been ruled out as a suspect. They had no children, though the husband did reveal that they'd given up a child for adoption 5 years earlier. Emma had gritted her teeth through that revelation, but hadn't let it impact on her professionalism.

However, a week into the case, with frustratingly few answers, they received a call from Quantico. David had called a team meeting, explaining that a very similar case had presented itself in Hartford, Connecticut, just one state over – wealthy woman murdered in her home while her husband was away, heart removed, family photos turned face-down. Certain details of the case had not been revealed to the media – in this case the removal of the victim's heart and the photographs being moved. It helped them to weed out any possible copy-cat killings that would inevitably follow if the case gained enough media attention.

Emma was not impressed by the idea of the feds swooping in and taking jurisdiction over  _her_  case, but David told her firmly that if Quantico deemed the links between the cases strong enough, there was to be no arguing when the FBI arrived. She'd grumbled her assent and got back to work, determined to get as much done as possible before she was no longer heading up the investigation.

She spent the next few hours poring over the crime scene photos, analyzing every minute detail she could (she even used a damn  _magnifying glass_ , like Sherlock freaking Holmes or something). Will sat opposite her at his own desk the entire time, intermittently glancing over with a weary expression from the pile of photos she'd thrust at him. She'd long-since tuned him out though, engrossed in her task.

When 6:30pm rolled around, Will shuffled his photos haphazardly into their evidence file and stood up.

"Swan, we're callin' it a night. Come on. We're goin' meetin' the lads down at th'Rabbit 'ole."

She ignored him, not even bothering to look up from her work. But suddenly a hand appeared in front of her face, snatching the photo she had been scrutinizing and shoving it in the evidence file along with the rest.

"Scarlet-"

She started with a warning tone, but he held up a hand and shook his head to silence her. She glared at him and was about to remind him that she knew how to make his death look like a  _tragic_  accident, but he grinned and dropped his offending hand.

"Dontcha 'Scarlet' me, love. We're done fer tonight. I'll even buy yer first drink. So go do whatever you ladies do in that locker room an' meet me in the carpark in ten."

Emma rolled her eyes, but reluctantly grabbed her cell phone and car keys from her drawer. He gave her a smug grin as he bounded toward the elevator, and she returned it was a falsely saccharine one before heading in the direction of the women's locker room.

"And it's parking lot, not 'carpark', idiot."

She called after him, just before he disappeared into the elevator.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Emma arrived at the bar with Will and spotted her co-workers occupying their usual booth at the back. They headed straight for the bar and Emma pointedly reminded Will that he was buying. One of the detectives from Vice, James, greeted them (or more specifically, her) as they approached, waiting on his own drink. He was David's estranged twin brother, and they made a very obvious point to avoid one another as much as possible.

Emma had never asked what had transpired between the pair to cause such a rift, but she knew they'd never been particularly close. They were complete opposites. David was the over-protective dad, worrying needlessly whenever she got into any scrapes in the field, while James took every opportunity to fulfil the pervy uncle role, being very explicit and forthcoming in his appreciation of her 'assets' whenever they crossed paths. David had been on the verge of punching his brother on numerous occasions because of that.

"Swan, looking delectable as ever. I do love when you wear those see-through shirts."

"Yeah, well, look your fill because this is the most you'll ever see of my tits, Nolan."

She shot back, not even bothering to glance in his direction before she pointedly turned her back on him. She heard him mutter something about her being 'an uptight bitch who needed a good fuck to loosen her up' and felt Will bristle beside her. She just rolled her eyes and let James' comment slide though. She really couldn't be bothered breaking any noses that night.

As the bartender poured their drinks, she felt eyes on her and glanced around. It wasn't exactly unusual. She wasn't unaware of the effect she had on men, especially when her long, toned legs were encased in sinfully skin-tight denim and her red ¾ sleeved chiffon shirt did nothing to hide the black lace bra she wore beneath it. Her hair was a tousled mess of beachy blonde waves that she'd simply tugged free of her hair-tie and shook out, and her face was bare of almost all make-up, save for cherry Chapstick and a touch of mascara that brought out the green of her eyes.

She'd once used her feminine charms as an integral part of her job as a bailbondsperson, but she found that even now, as a detective, men were most certainly not immune to her beauty, despite occasionally being somewhat intimidated by her strength and position within the department. At the end of the day, they were still men and more often than not, they were ruled by certain organs that weren't in their skull. So, of course, she played on that, because to her it was an easily exploited weakness.

As her drink was pushed toward her, Emma's eyes connected with a pair of startlingly baby blues. The person those eyes belonged to was quite clearly an extremely attractive man, and he was holding her gaze unwaveringly, a small smile tugging his lips. His five o'clock shadow was more than a little becoming on him, and he had a jawline that she was sure had to be illegal in several states. His smirk was knowing, as though she was an open book to him even across a crowded bar. He raised his glass slightly and tipped it in her direction before tossing back the amber liquid and placing it down on the bar, gesturing to the bartender for another without taking his eyes off of her.

Emma felt the tiny hairs on her arms stand up, an innate reaction to the bedroom eyes a devastatingly attractive stranger was levelling her with from across the room. But Will was tugging at her elbow then and the moment was lost. She glanced away and shook her head, clearing the momentary mind-fog that had short circuited her awareness of everything else but the devilishly handsome mystery man, whose eyes she could feel were still on her.

She pointedly kept herself from looking back over at him as she followed Will to the back booth where the rest of their co-workers were laughing over one of David's many anecdotes. She made herself comfortable at the end of the table, resolutely keeping her back to the bar and steadfastly ignoring the urge to glance over her shoulder.

But little more than ten minutes later, one of the bartenders approached their table, setting a drink down in front of her. Rum and coke. Confused, she was about to tell August that she hadn't ordered another drink, but he beat her to it with an explanation.

"Guy at the end of the bar sent this over for you, Emma. Guessed your drink order and everything."

Emma frowned and eyed the drink as David rolled his eyes, searching the bar to find out who he had to death glare this evening. Emma couldn't resist glancing over her shoulder, finally, and once again her eyes immediately connected with his. The mysterious blue eyed stranger who had a knack for guessing people's drink of preference just by looking at them, apparently. She debated whether to simply accept the drink and try to force her attention to remain with the group, or to go over there and see what this guy was about. It had been awhile since she'd looked twice at a guy and almost as long since she'd last gotten laid.

Decision made, she pushed her chair back, casually telling the group that she'd be right back and pointedly ignoring David's warning glare, before striding confidently over to where the tall, dark and brooding stranger sat patiently waiting for her.

"Nice guess on the drink. That your secret superpower or did you bribe Lacey into giving up my usual order?"

He gazed at her thoughtfully, before tossing back the last of his drink and smirking.

"Where would be the fun in simply asking your order, darling? So, did I get it right? You struck me as the rum type. Takes one to know one."

He tilted his empty glass toward her before placing it down.

" _Oh, great, an accent too. Did God create this asshole on the Eighth Day or something?"_

Emma thought, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from muttering it out loud. She wondered what was wrong with him, because surely someone had no right being that attractive and making words sound that sinfully delicious without  _something_  being amiss.

"What's your name, lass?"

He asked, turning his barstool to face her as she stood beside him, hip and elbow leaned against the countertop. Emma hesitated. If she was going to leave with this guy tonight, she was reluctant to give him anything he could use to track her down again. Granted, it didn't help that she was in her local bar, or that she was quite clearly socializing with a bunch of cops. So, if his deduction skills really were as well-honed as she suspected they were, it would take him approximately half a second to deduce a number of things about her and how to track her down.

Brushing off her much-too-loud thoughts, she tilted her chin up and met his eyes.

"Emma."

She said finally and he repeated it back, as though rolling it around on that tongue of his to see how it tasted. She flushed as her mind went straight to decidedly R-Rated thoughts about his tongue and she dropped her gaze.

"Emma. Beautiful. Very fitting," she rolled her eyes at that but he simply smiled, "And do you have a last name, Emma?"

She shrugged.

"Not important. I assume you didn't send me a drink just so we could exchange names."

"Ah, quite the detective, aren't you, lass."

Emma stiffened, wondering whether he'd chosen his words carefully or if that was just an offhanded comment. But before she could dwell on it, he was leaning toward her slightly.

"So, I know your name, and here, I haven't even told you mine-"

"What fun would that be?"

She answered quickly, returning his smirk with one of her own as she consciously decided to throw caution to the wind and take what she wanted. She saw his eyes flash with what she was certain was arousal, pupils blown black so that there was barely any blue left, and her whole body suddenly felt hot.

"Just two ships passing in the night then?"

He murmured, and she couldn't help but let her gaze drop to his lips.

"Passing closely, I hope."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Mindless small talk wasn't something Emma had ever engaged in if she could help it. For the last ten years or so, one night stands were all she'd been interested in. She'd had her heart broken too badly to be willing to open herself up again and risk getting hurt once more. So she'd settled for going home with someone from a random bar whenever she felt the need to scratch that itch. As a general rule she  _didn't_ like to meet guys at the Rabbit Hole though. Too close to home. Too much of a risk that she'd see them again.

No, when she went out with the sole intention of 'stress relief', she generally ventured to the other side of the city, reducing the risk of ever accidentally seeing the guy again. After they were done, she'd slip out while her bedmate was sleeping or showering, and she  _never_  stayed the night. She had her own unwritten rules and she stuck to them.

Most of the guys she'd slept with had been reasonable. They'd done the job. But she definitely hadn't had any kind of spiritual experience with any of them. It was usually quick and efficient, which suited Emma just fine.

Until now.

Whoever had taught this guy how to do what he was currently doing with his tongue, she was tempted to send them a gift basket. Multiple orgasms had never been something she even thought she was capable of, nevermind with a guy she'd literally just met. And yet here she was, three orgasms in and wondering if he was some kind of twisted psychopath who used orgasms to murder women. She couldn't say she'd mind going that way though.

The moment they'd arrived at his hotel room (he was in town on business, apparently, and she'd squashed down a wave of relief), she was shoving him against the wall and fusing her lips to his. If he was surprised, he hadn't let it show. Clothes had been ripped off as they'd stumbled backward toward the bed and he'd wasted no time in settling between her thighs, even when she'd started to protest, assuring him he didn't have to do that. He'd simply grinned at her and pressed kisses to her inner thighs, making her tremble as he teased his way closer and closer to where she was more than ready for him.

And despite his teasing, when he finally did press his lips to her center, she couldn't help the gasp that passed her lips, liquid fire running through her veins as he tugged her legs over his shoulders and continued to devour her. It took precisely two minutes twenty-four seconds for her first orgasm to hit. Usually it'd be well into double figures minutes-wise before she was anywhere close. And yet, she'd barely come down from her first high when she felt him pushing two fingers inside her, causing her to arch her back and let out a keening moan. It was a sound she'd never heard come out of her own mouth before, but she was too far gone to be embarrassed.

He slowed his pace to border on torturous then, keeping a hand firmly pressed to her belly to keep her from squirming beneath his ministrations. She bucked her hips and he chuckled, the vibrations reverberating through her entire body like a tripwire, sparking little electric shocks across her body that had her toes curling with the pleasure of it.

"Come on, Emma, let go for me again, love. You're so bloody intoxicating when you come."

His murmured words against the sensitive skin of her thigh in that damn accent of his pushed her head-first into her second orgasm of the night. He worked her through it, and she momentarily wondered if she'd passed out for a moment, her vision blurring at the edges as she blinked and gasped for breath.

He shifted to lay beside her then, smirking as he stuck his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean in such a blatantly erotic way that she felt her entire body flush.

"You're a marvel, darling-"

He started, but she didn't want pillow talk. They hadn't even had sex yet, and she planned on giving just as good as she got. So, quickly straddling his hips, she pinned his wrists above his head and began grinding her hips down, his impressive erection trapped between them. He swallowed hard, eyes glazing over with lust when she let her breasts drag pleasantly against his chest as she moved, his chest hair only heightening the sensations.

Moving down his body then, she pressed open-mouth kisses over his hipbones, and then on his thighs the way he's done to her, dragging out his torment. Finally, when he choked out her name on a plea, she took pity on him and licked a firm stripe up the length of his cock. He jerked his hips involuntarily and she immediately took him fully into her mouth.

He was bigger than most other guys she'd been with, but it didn't faze her. She took him right to the back of her throat, and curled her hand around the base, unable to take him all in. He groaned loudly, his hand moving to tangle in her hair. Usually she'd shake a guy off if he'd tried to push her head down when she was blowing him, but he didn't try to control her movements. Instead, his fingers just combed through her hair and she relaxed again, closing her throat around him and thrilling in the guttural groans she was able to pull from him.

"Bloody fuck, Emma. Stop. I desperately do not wish for this to be over before the main event, but if you keep that up I fear I'll lose it like some untested youth."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, moving to straddle him once more.

"Do you always talk like that? Like you've been rolled right outta some Shakespearean playbook?"

Tuesday (as she was referring to him in her head – something she often did with her one nighters, naming them after the day of the week she went home with them) chuckled and pulled her hips more firmly down against his. She bit her lip and shifted so that he was lined up, sinking down onto him in one quick, smooth movement. They both stilled momentarily to adjust, before Emma began rolling her hips, hands on his abs to steady herself.

"Emma, bloody Christ, love…"

In answer, Emma shifted backwards, bringing her knees forward and planting her feet flat on the bed, her hips lifting up and her hands reaching backward for purchase, giving him quite the show. He gulped and slid his hands up and down her thighs, bitten-off words of encouragement and praise falling from his lips and spurning her on despite the burn of her muscles.

She'd never had a praise kink before, but hearing him whispering her name along with a litany of praise was certainly doing things to her, and when his fingers suddenly started to circle her clit she cried out in surprise as a fast, breath-stealing orgasm hit her.

Before she had chance to realize what was happening, he had her on her back, pushing inside her again quickly and burying his face into the crook of her neck as he sped up his thrusts. She locked her ankles at the small of his back, pressing her heels down and encouraging his movements. He suddenly pulled out and she whimpered at the loss, but in the next moment he was pulling her up, whispering for her to turn around.

She was about to balk and tell him there was  _not a chance in hell_  she was doing  _that_  but he simply pulled her back flush against his chest and slid a hand around between her legs. Her eyes widened as she saw her reflection staring back at her, the full length mirror facing the bed being something she completely overlooked when they'd stumbled into the room.

She gasped as he bit down on the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, his eyes never leaving her face in the mirror. He whispered more praise in her ear as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge again, telling her how beautiful she was, how utterly breathtaking she looked with his cock inside her. She felt another orgasm building, and she was sure that if he kept going at this rate she would surely pass out before long.

"I know you've got another one left in you, Emma, darling. Don't hold out on me. Let me feel you come around my cock."

A little well-timed dirty talk in his silky, sultry voice was all it took, and she was falling forward onto her elbows on the bed, crying out and shivering with the aftershocks as he gripped her hips and drove into a few more times before nudging her hips and encouraging her to turn back over onto her back once more. She did so, too exhausted and sated with bone-deep pleasure to argue. He sheathed himself inside her again and within moments was fucking her with abandon. It wasn't long before his thrusts became erratic and he quickly pulled out moments before he came, hand wrapping around himself and jerking until he groaned her name and shot his release across her stomach, painting her skin and branding her.

He stilled for long moments afterward, chest heaving as he admired the sight of her spread out before him, hair fanned out on the pillow like a golden halo and her skin flushed and glistening with his seed. She stared back up at him, half expecting to wake up at any moment and realize it had all been an intensely erotic dream. Because surely a man who could wring so much pleasure out of her body and leave her reluctant to move from the bed had to be a figment of her imagination. He couldn't possibly be real.

"I'm going to take a shower, love. Care to join me?"

He smirked at her and moved toward the bathroom, unbothered by his nakedness as he strode across the room. She blushed and shook her head.

" _Really, Emma, you're blushing now when you've just fucked the guy for the last…holy shit, two and a half hours?!"_

As soon as she heard the shower door close behind him, Emma quickly cleaned herself up, gathered her clothes and dressed in a hurry. Pausing in front of the mirror to attempt to tame the 'freshly fucked look' her wild, tousled hair was giving her, she tried not to think of how good they'd looked, moving sensually together in that mirror.

Shaking her head, she ran a hand through her hair and gave up trying to tame it. As she headed for the door, she contemplated leaving him a quick note but scoffed at herself immediately and slipped out into the hallway, easing the door shut behind her as quietly as possible.

Hailing a cab as soon as she stepped out of the hotel, Emma attempted to push the greatest sex of her life to the back of her mind. No use playing it back on loop. It was over now and she'd never see Tuesday again.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"You're late."

Will observed casually around a mouthful of jelly donut when Emma arrived at work the next morning. She'd arrived home much later than she'd anticipated – thanks to a two and a half hour session with the Sex God she'd picked up and was desperately trying not to think about this morning – and she'd slept through her alarm. Luckily she wasn't horribly late, just a half hour. But she was  _never_  late, and it had thrown her all off-kilter, leaving her on edge and cranky seeing as she'd had to skip her morning coffee in her rush to leave her apartment.

"Traffic..."

She muttered, and he didn't press her. Instead he simply nodded toward her desk.

"Bearclaws and an extra-large coffee with two extra shots of espresso and three shots of vanilla. Prob'ly cold now though. Figured you'd need it this mornin'."

She was almost on the verge of hugging Will, but instead made a beeline for the coffee. She didn't care if it was cold. It was caffeinated, and that's all that mattered. She made a mental note to buy her partner a freaking  _case_  of Poptarts this time. He watched her with amusement as she breathed down the coffee and the two bearclaws.

"Slow down, Swan, they're not goin' nowhere."

Will chuckled and she grinned at him with a mouthful of pastry. David called her name then and she turned as she stuffed the rest of the remaining bearclaw in her mouth.

"Emma, the FBI team have arrived. I've set them up in the conference room. They're going to do a team brief this morning to fill us in on everything they know so far, and then I want you to present everything we've got."

Emma nodded, reaching for her coffee again to wash down the cinnamon pastry.

"I don't care that they're swooping in here and  _stealing_  my case, which they'll then take all the credit for when  _our guys_  solve it, but I hope those big hot shots know I'm not gonna let them freeze me out of my own case just because they have jurisdiction now."

Emma stated firmly and David sighed, clearly anticipating her reluctance to hand over the reins.

"We're still working the case, Emma. We'll be in the loop. But they're gonna be handling all the official stuff from here on out. Media, evidence processing, database searches. It's all under their say-so now. I'm well aware that you hate taking orders, especially now you're a detective, but try not to come to blows with them too much."

Emma pressed her lips together into a thin line, holding back a snarky retort and instead chose to sip her cold coffee and keep her sass to herself for once.

"I can't imagine we'll come to  _blows_ , Captain. I can assure you, I'm more than happy to work  _closely_  with your team and make this case run as  _smoothly_  as possible."

Emma froze. She would recognize the voice behind her anywhere now and her blood ran cold. Tuesday. No. No, this was not happening. Gripping her coffee cup, Emma slowly turned around and came face-to-face with the man who would no doubt be haunting every naughty dream she had for years to come.

"You must be Emma Swan. Charmed to meet you, love. I'm Killian Jones. Head of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit."

He smirked at her with a glint in his eye, a secret shared between them as he reached for her hand and shook it firmly, fingers grazing her pulse point as he did so and making her blood rush in her ears.

Tuesday.

Killian Jones.

The man who had fucked her three ways from Sunday and wrung more pleasure from her than she knew her body was even capable of handling. The man she was never going to see again. And now here he was…taking over her damn case.


	2. Chapter 2

Never before had Emma wanted the world to open up and swallow her whole. Not until the moment her nameless bed-mate from the night before had shown up and basically informed her that he was to be her temporary new boss for the duration of her current case.

After Killian had put on a show of introducing himself, the sparkle in his eyes and the hint of a smirk on his lips lost on everyone but her, she'd quickly excused herself and bolted for the bathroom. She'd locked herself in a stall and took deep, steadying breaths for long moments, reluctantly leaving the solitary safety of the restroom when she knew her absence was becoming conspicuous.

Thankfully, Killian Jones, FBI, was nowhere to be seen by that point, and David seemed to have disappeared too. Will informed her that they'd gone to discuss space and facility allocation, before launching into his suspicions about her reaction to the charming FBI agent.

Quickly tiring of his incessant talking, she shot him an icy glare and muttered under her breath that yes, he was the guy she'd left the bar with the night before, and yes, she'd slept with him, and no, she certainly  _hadn't_  known who he was when she did so.

"I knew I bloody recognized the bugger!"

Will's attempt at a whisper left something to be desired and his tone was entirely too gleeful for Emma's liking. If she hadn't been quite so floored by the sudden appearance of her most recent (and by far her best) one-nighter in her place of work, she might have had the sense of mind to deliver a swift elbow to his ribs. But the most she could manage was a withering glare before her attention was displaced once more as Killian and David returned.

Killian's eyes met hers immediately and the air backed up in her lungs. She made a mental note to warn him off, to make it extremely clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. It had been a one-time thing, and that was that.

So she should have been glad when he kept his distance for the rest of the day, despite the occasional glance she caught aimed in her direction. But she wasn't. In fact, the longer he kept his distance and respected the giant invisible sign she wore warning him off, the more on-edge she became. It wasn't as though she could approach him and tell him to stay away from her…considering that was exactly what he was doing. But at the same time, she still felt the need to emphasize just how 'not happening' they were.

By the end of the day, Emma wanted nothing more than to get home, take a hot bath and crawl into bed. She would figure out how exactly to approach the awkward yet requisite conversation with Killian about where they stood once she was suitably drunk on vanilla and lavender fumes from her bath salts. That would surely help.

But just as she reached her car, a voice across the busy parking lot stopped her in her tracks, calling her name from behind her. She froze, debating whether or not she could pretend she didn't hear him, jump in her car and speed off. With a resigned sigh, she turned around slowly as he approached and offered him a tight, impassive smile.

"I didn't get a chance to speak with you properly today-"

"Yeah, that's 'cause I was avoiding you."

She shot back flatly, but instead of being offended by her bluntness, he simply tilted his head slightly and smirked.

"Now why would you wish to avoid me, love? Didn't you have a good time last night?"

His voice dropped and she tried to ignore the way that silky tone spoke to her baser instincts and kicked her autonomic nervous system into high gear. She gritted her teeth, hating that he seemingly knew how to rile her up and was not averse to using it against her.

"It was a one-time thing. I never thought I'd see you again, and it never would have happened if I knew who you were. So yeah. Not interested. And stop looking at me like you've seen me naked."

His tongue darted out across his lips and she bit her own to hold back her body's instinctive mirror reaction.

"Oh, but I have seen you naked, Swan. And you're a bloody marvel. Especially when you're com-"

"Stop. Enough. I've told you where we stand. Now back the fuck off."

Her defences were up, and she could feel the tension in her shoulders, her glare shooting daggers at him as she backed up and yanked open her car door. His smirk was gone and he remained silent for a moment before nodding, holding up his hands and stepping back from her car.

"As you wish. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable. I shall take my leave now. Have a lovely evening."

With that he walked away, and Emma was left staring after him, pointedly ignoring the whisper in the back of her mind that told her she'd met her match in this Killian Jones. That she had made a fatal error when she'd gone home with him. And that perhaps, there was something about him, which had already begun to take root under her skin.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Killian Jones was fucked. Well and truly, in every sense of the word, fucked.

He had been since the moment Detective Emma Swan strode up to him at the local pub and demanded to know how he'd known her drink of choice. He'd appreciated her beauty from across the bar, and when she'd met his gaze, he'd felt an instant connection. Of course, his brother's voice in his head had immediately chided him for such fanciful notions, but he'd simply tossed back his rum and drowned Liam out.

He'd sent her a drink over on impulse, not really analysing why exactly he had the distinct feeling she was a rum girl. A few minutes later, she'd strolled over, the suspicion in her tone soon turning into something entirely more encouraging. She'd openly flirted, but never asked his name, and by the time she leaned in closer, a light yet enticing hint of her perfume along with vanilla and coconut shampoo intoxicating him further, he knew he was a lost cause. She suggested they should leave the bar, and he was more than willing to oblige.

When they'd finally reached his hotel room, she'd had him pinned against the wall before he'd even managed to kick the door fully shut behind them. She'd driven him crazy the entire cab ride, and he was glad to know she wasn't going to play it coy and torture him too much.

The sex had been phenomenal, even better than he'd anticipated. She'd surpassed every fantasy he'd ever had, and then some. He was utterly enamored with this siren, and it had startled him a little as he'd stood under the shower following the most erotic and satisfying two and a half hours of his life. He knew that when he felt things, he felt them intensely and completely, so already the warning bells were sounding in his head, telling him not to read more into the night they were sharing as anything more than just sex.

A one night stand was clearly all she wanted, uninterested in even knowing his name before she'd gone home with him. And that was fine. He could deal with that. He'd just hoped he could perhaps convince her to stay the night and go one more round in the morning before she left.

But he had his answer to  _that_  unasked question when he'd found his room empty as he emerged from the bathroom. He knew he shouldn't have felt as disappointed as he did, but he couldn't help it. Resigning himself to ordering room service and a sappy pay-per-view movie, he tried to push his mysterious Emma out of his mind.

He hadn't even known her last name. Or if Emma was indeed her real first name. He had, however, been well aware that she'd made it quite clear sex was all she wanted from him, and that looking for her would not be well-received. But with such intensely vivid images locked in his memory, he'd known he would be reliving the night in his mind over and over, even if he never did see her again. And he'd supposed he could settle for that.

That was, until the very next day. He had arrived in the city with his team in the early evening, and they were set to join the local homicide team the following morning. He'd arrived promptly, a little before the rest of his task force, and was relieved to find that David Nolan, Captain of Boston Homicide, was most accommodating. He'd shown him around and introduced him to the tech people the department would be providing for his team, and then to a few of the officers who were currently heading up the investigation.

Will Scarlet hadn't inspired the most confidence in him, but David had assured him quietly that Will's partner was extremely competent, despite being the youngest female detective they'd ever had on the force, and that she was the  _actual_  lead on the case. He was already impressed, but he hadn't put the pieces together. Of course he hadn't.

What were the chances that the incredible, feisty woman he'd happened to meet and sleep with the night before would end up being the lead detective on a case he was in the city to take over? Slim to impossible. So when she'd stumbled through the door, looking more than a little harried, he'd been completely at a loss for words. He'd been extremely glad she hadn't spotted him first, because he'd had time to compose himself and school his features into something that wouldn't immediately scream to the entire department that they'd fucked.

When David had introduced him to her, he'd watched as the color had drained from her face and she'd just about managed a terse response before she was bolting. It didn't exactly surprise him, considering how swiftly she'd disappeared the night before, but he couldn't help feel slightly disheartened. He knew she'd enjoyed their brief encounter, considering the amount of orgasms he'd coaxed from her, but the fact that she was so averse to seeing him again was a slight hit to his ego.

Eventually, she'd returned to the bullpen, and he'd given her the distance she'd clearly required. But even if he had so much as looked in her direction, she'd avoided his gaze and made sure her back was to him. He didn't have to be a profiler to know what her body language was telling him.

By the end of the day, he'd felt drained. Not from the actual work, but from the effort it had taken to stop his thoughts from drifting to her. He wasn't used to being quite so enamored with a woman he didn't even really know.

So, when he'd seen her shock of blonde hair and red jacket disappear out of the door at what was clearly the end of her shift, he'd known he had to speak to her, even though he still hadn't a bloody clue what to say. He'd quickly made his way to the parking lot, concerned that he'd miss her because of the amount of people all bustling past him, clearly eager to leave work for the day. But then he saw her, approaching a vintage yellow VW bug, of all cars. And he'd shouted her name before he could second guess himself.

He'd watched as she'd frozen, and made his way over to her. She'd finally turned to face him, and though she'd smiled, it was a tight, forced thing that hadn't reached her eyes. His instinctive reaction had been to rely on some good old innuendos, but they had most definitely backfired, and she'd shut him down with venom in her tone, fire in her eyes and tension in her shoulders. He'd quickly apologized, stomach heavy with regret for clearly making her uncomfortable. That certainly hadn't been his intention. He'd walked away and she'd sped past him a few moments later, without looking back he was sure.

He'd slept terribly that night, tossing and turning in his much-too-crisp hotel sheets. Despite the bed having been made up, he could still smell Emma's shampoo, the scent of her lingering and tormenting him. He'd gone for a walk around the block at 3am, hoping some fresh air would help him unwind, but when he was still trying to drop off at 5am, he'd given up.

Instead, he'd opted for a hot shower and scouted out the closest coffee house to his hotel, which ended up being a Dunkin Donuts, because much to his chagrin, Starbucks seemed to be conspicuously scarce in Boston. So, he'd tucked himself into a corner and dosed up on caffeine until he'd deemed it a reasonable hour to head to the office. Hoping he didn't look too haggard, he made a mental plan of action…which immediately flew out of the window when he saw Emma sat alone in the eerily silent bullpen, eyes scanning over a document she was clearly engrossed in as she absently sipped on a coffee that was almost bigger than her.

Emma had arrived at work bright and early a little while before him, relishing the fact that she had the office to herself for a little while, her extra-large coffee a substitute for all the sleep she  _hadn't_  managed to get the night before. She'd tossed and turned all night, and told herself it was purely down to the weight of a new case and absolutely nothing to do with a certain FBI agent she couldn't get out of her damn head. This was not normal for her. Her conquests didn't play on her mind. She'd be pushed to remember what most of them even looked like.

But he was different. And not only because he was suddenly thrust into an area of her life that she had no wish for him to be a part of.

Giving up on sleep at around 5am, she'd stuffed a Poptart in her mouth, pulled on her workout gear and opted for a run. That always helped to clear her mind. During any particularly testing cases, usually ones that hit a little too close to home for one reason or another, Emma would regularly fit in a morning run before work. She had particular routes she favored on such occasions, which afforded her enough time to shower and change at the precinct before she began her shift.

"Morning, Detective Swan."

Emma jumped a mile and almost spilled her precious coffee all over herself. She'd been at her desk in the empty bullpen all of ten minutes and was catching up on the crime scene lab results the night shift had left when Killian's voice startled her.

"What- why are you here so early? It's only…7:30."

"I could ask the same about you."

She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee and levelling a bemused gaze on him.

"I asked you first."

He chuckled at that as she placed her coffee down and folded her arms, raising an eyebrow and waiting for an answer. He sighed and perched on the edge of her desk, giving her a jarring view of his profile that she really couldn't help but silently admire. Scratching behind his ear, seemingly oblivious to how damn gorgeous he looked from such an angle, he sighed.

"Truth be told, I couldn't sleep. I feel we got off on a bad foot here. I understand that you clearly prefer to keep your work and personal lives as two very separate entities and I respect that. So, how about we start over? What do you say, Swan? Give me a chance to show you I'm actually a rather decent bloke and let us work together without the giant elephant in the room?" He paused, "The elephant being our night together, of course."

Emma was taken aback. She'd never met anyone quite like this man before, and it was throwing her more than a little off kilter. She was used to dealing with scumbags, criminals. Yes, her partner and the other men she worked with were all pretty alright (okay, David was as stellar as they came, but she'd always viewed him as some kind of anomaly), but overall, she was used to the odd innuendo or borderline-misogynistic comment. She roasted them for it, of course, but they were used to that too. In her experience, that seemed to be the norm in such a male-dominated workplace. She wasn't saying it was  _right_ , but it was just the reality of her job.

And now here was this guy,  _losing sleep_  over what she may or may not think of him. She was most definitely going to file him in the 'anomaly' category along with David.

Realizing she was gawping at him as he shifted uncomfortably, waiting for a response from her, she quickly snapped her mouth shut and cleared her throat, pointedly ignoring the flush she could feel heating her face. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

"Uh…yeah. Alright. Whatever. You do your job and I'll do mine."

He gave her a small smile, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, practically able to hear the gears turning in his head as he considered her for a long moment. Finally, he nodded and moved to stand from where he'd been perched on her desk.

"Good. Wonderful. Then it'll be a pleasure working with you, Detective Swan."

"Emma is fine. No one addresses each other by their full title in here, in case you haven't already noticed."

Killian nodded again, his smile a little bigger than before and reaching his eyes this time. He canted his head toward the briefing room.

"When the rest of the team arrives in a little while, I'd like to go over everything we already know and the lab results that I notice you have there with you. Then we can start to put together our profile. That sound reasonable?"

Emma gave a succinct nod and he smiled. He knew that was probably the best he could have hoped for, and he was satisfied. As he made his way to the briefing room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he hoped their interaction that morning had gone some way to countering their sour one from the day before. He certainly felt as though some of the weight had been lifted, and he found the smile still on his face as he busied himself preparing for the morning's briefing.

Emma was somewhat relieved that he'd gotten straight back to business. Work talk, she could deal with. From what she'd seen of him around the office so far, when she'd been pretending not to take any notice of him whatsoever, he seemed like he shared her work ethic – i.e. he was borderline obsessive and relentless when he was on a case, and extremely thorough with his investigations.

Okay, so…maybe that wasn't just what she'd picked up from one day of stolen glances. Maybe she'd been nosy and looked up his file and credentials…but it was purely in the interest of knowing who she was working with. Or so she'd tried to convince herself.

Special Agent Killian Jones was a former British Navy Lieutenant, a dual-national who was born in the US to British parents and moved back to England after his mother passed away when he was young. It wasn't quite clear what had made him swap the British Navy for the US Government, but he'd been climbing the ranks of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit for the last few years.

There were some sealed internal files that Emma couldn't access, and though she was tempted to give it a shot, curiosity making her fingers itch, she didn't really want her access attempt to be flagged. Explaining why she was digging through Killian's personal records was just a whole level of awkward she wasn't willing to put herself through.

So she'd quickly turned her attention back to her  _actual_  case, reminding herself that there were two, if not more, dead women whose families deserved answers, and a killer on the loose who could strike again any day. That was enough to sober her thoughts and motivate her to barrel through the mountainous stack of paperwork the crime scene samples had generated.

The results of those samples were the papers she'd found on her desk that morning, and after stealing a glance over her shoulder, to see Killian deeply engrossed in briefing prep, Emma got her head down and focused on analysing the daunting sheets of results in front of her.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"So, what we don't want releasing to the media, under any circumstances, are the two main identifiers of this case: the stolen hearts and the face-down photographs. They're what we call 'signatures'. Things the unsub-…unknown subject, the killer-"

"Alright, buddy, this isn't How To Be a Cop 101, all of us here know what a signature and an unsub are," Emma rolled her eyes, "How about you talk to us like we're actual cops and not grade school kids at a career fair."

A handful of her fellow officers chuckled their agreement and a few of Killian's team did a poor job of biting back their amusement, but she could feel David's glare levelled on her, which she steadfastly avoided. Instead, she defiantly held Killian's gaze, choosing to ignore the tiny hairs on the back of her neck that were  _not_  reacting to his eyes locking with hers, and the flush she  _couldn't_  feel threatening to crack her indignant façade.

"Apologies, Detective Swan," Killian responded, amusement in his tone as he continued to maintain eye contact, "I will try to be more mindful of your  _expertise_  in the future."

All attempts at holding back her blush were thwarted as he wrapped his tongue around that single word in the most indecent manner, and it was all she could do not to gawp at the audacity of his response in a room full of people. People who were now eyeing the two of them with piqued interest. People who could clearly feel the crackle of electricity that sparked between them almost as well as she could.

Biting back another sassy response that was burning the tip of her tongue, Emma folded her arms and forcibly broke his gaze. Killian cleared his throat, seemingly unfazed by the charged exchange with someone who was, as far as anyone else was concerned, a total stranger to him, and forced himself to focus back on the briefing.

Even when she was supposedly playing nice, after they'd called a truce and agreed on a do-over, she was intent on pushing his buttons, it seemed. And he couldn't help but find that devastatingly enticing. She was full of fire, and he was more than willing to get burned if it meant he got to share a bit of her heat.

He powered through the rest of the briefing without any more interruptions, laying out a preliminary profile of a Caucasian male in his late thirties to mid-forties, likely in a job that allowed him unsuspecting access to properties, enabling him to blend in and come and go easily while learning the daily routines of his victims. Killian also suggested that his team believed the man lived alone, or had access to a private storage facility where he likely kept his trophies. He would not hide them, wishing to retrieve them easily to relive the kill. It was also probable, Killian noted, that the victims represented someone who, in the unsub's eyes, had metaphorically 'ripped his heart out' in some way. The signature was meaningful; his victims simply surrogates.

At the end of the briefing, Killian opened the floor up for questions, and was unsurprised when Emma raised her hand.

"Yes, Detective Swan?"

"You think it's a guy…why not a woman?"

Killian moved around to perch on the front of the desk, the room quiet as they awaited an answer.

"Female serial killers are a rare breed. That's not to say they don't exist, of course. We know they do. But there are a number of unique characteristics that suggest a female unsub over a male. For one, the methods they use are generally, but not always, less…gory, shall we say? Female serial killers favor drowning, poisoning and such…and many see their actions as mercy-driven. The vast majority of female serial killers target family members, or their victims are under their care somehow. The motives tend to be money-driven or crimes of passion with women too. We don't see any of those markers in this case."

Killian paused, glancing around the room at almost every pair of eyes glued to him with rapt attention. He was somewhat pleased to see the intrigue in Emma's gaze too, and he cleared his throat.

"That's not to say a female categorically isn't involved…a profile can develop along with a case, and we may uncover details that suggest our ubsub has an accomplice of the female persuasion. But we may not. My team and I prefer to let the case talk to us, and simply listen to what it gives us. We don't necessarily discount possibilities, but it would certainly surprise me if our ubsub was a woman."

Emma nodded thoughtfully, grudgingly admitting that she was fascinated. Her methods had always been more cut-and-dry when it came to catching her bad guys. But Killian and his team sought to get into their heads and uncover their motivations for doing what they did. She couldn't help but absently wonder if it ever got to him, if he could switch off at the end of the day and leave his cases at work, or if any of them haunted him and kept him awake at night...if they affected his relationships.

Shaking off unwelcome thoughts about Killian's personal life, Emma zoned back in to hear him explaining that the FBI technical analyst was busy scouring every database to try and find a link between the two victims, and that he was sure that once they had a link, they could then look at predicting their killer's next move. They would be able to identify individuals at most risk of becoming the next victims, and look at everyone in their lives who could fit the profile of the killer. Until then, unless they got any fast hits, it was all down to processing the crime scene.

A hotline had been set up, as per protocol, but thus far no significant leads had been flagged up. That was, until just before six pm, when a rookie manning one of the phones frantically began waving them over. Wasting no time, Killian and Emma grabbed extra headsets and got on the line. The rookie did his best to calm the hysterical woman on the other end of the phone, but she was babbling almost-incoherently, so Emma snatched the mouthpiece and took over.

"Hi, I'm Detective Emma Swan, can I ask who I'm speaking to?"

Her voice was gentle, soothing, and Killian couldn't help but marvel at her versatility. One second she was prickly and domineering, with a tongue and wit sharp enough to scar a man, and the next she was comforting and reassuring, her voice a balm even to the deepest wounds.

Focusing back on the job at hand, Killian listened to the panicked woman sniffling, her voice shaking as she tried to articulate the reason for her call. She'd gone across the street to see her neighbor, and instead had found the woman's body, bloodied and lifeless, on the living room floor. She'd immediately called the cops in a panic, and had been put through to the hotline when it had rang alarm bells with dispatch.

Emma stayed on the line with the woman until dispatched first response officers arrived to secure the scene a few minutes later. She then hung up, already mentally preparing her argument for why Killian should let her attend the crime scene with him, fully expecting resistance. Instead, he emerged from his makeshift office with his FBI vest on (and Emma would never admit it but… _damn_ ) and met her gaze, canting his head toward the door.

"Come on, Detective Swan, let's go."

Surprised, but careful not to show it, she gave a succinct nod and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. She was halfway out the door when Will's voice stopped her.

"Oii, Swan!" He called across the station with a mouthful of whatever pastry had been left unattended for more than 0.6 seconds, "Think you're forgettin' who your  _partner_  is 'ere."

Emma rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry I'm busy actually working while you stuff your face with stolen pastries."

He grinned at her with a full mouth, unaffected by her dig as he chomped happily on his pilfered treat.

"A man can't work on an empty stomach, love. Brain food an' all that. I'm good now though, so lead the way."

She stared at him for a moment before folding her arms.

"You're coming to the crime scene? Why?"

"To do me job. By which I mean – keep you from fallin' prey to the hunky boss man's charms. Again."

Emma delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs and a warning glare that did nothing to intimidate him anymore, muttering curses at him as he chuckled and followed her out to the car.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

No matter how many crime scenes Emma attended, she was pretty sure she was never going to get this one out of her mind. Nothing had been touched, as per strict orders from Killian, and she watched as he carefully manoeuvred around the living room with the practiced ease of someone who saw such atrocities on the regular and had somehow found a way to harden themselves to the horror of it all.

She'd dealt with her fair share of homicides –  _obviously_ – but none had made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up the way this one did. The body of the victim – Ashley Boyd, 23 – lay in the center of the living room, eyes wide in an immortalized mask of fear. She heard Will's muttered 'bloody hell' behind her, and she was inclined to agree.

Glancing around, Emma took in as many details as she could. Turned down photographs littered the mantel and end tables, just like the previous crime scenes. But one in particular caught Emma's attention. The others had simply been turned over where they stood, but this one appeared to have been smashed with some force, glass shattered and the frame dented.

Grabbing some gloves, Emma carefully lifted the damaged photo frame off of the floor and turned it around to find a picture of the victim in a hospital bed, a newborn baby cradled in her arms and a tired smile on her face. Frowning, she glanced around the room. There didn't seem to be any signs that a baby lived in the house, from what she'd seen so far, nor did the neighbor who'd called it in say anything about a child. And it appeared that this picture in particular had somehow angered the killer.

"Hey, have you seen this?"

She called Killian's attention over to the photograph and he looked at it thoughtfully for a moment.

"Seems this photograph pissed off our unsub…we'll need hospital records. If there's a child involved…where is it? And where's the husband?"

"Oh, neighbor said he goes to visit his dad in Pennsylvania once a month. Got people tryin' to contact 'im."

Will supplied, and Killian nodded, turning back to survey the crime scene. Emma excused herself, heading outside to where the neighbor sat quite clearly in shock in the passenger seat of a cop car, a blanket around her and the door open as people bustled back and forth securing the scene.

"Hi…I'm Emma…the detective you spoke to on the phone earlier. It's Kathryn, right? How are you doing?"

The young woman turned a haunted gaze to Emma and managed a wan smile.

"Yeah. Not great. I just keep…seeing her face. She looked so scared."

The woman's voice cracked and Emma crouched down beside her. She dealt with homicides almost every day, and that meant also dealing with the people who were left behind to pick up the pieces after their lives were forever changed by the loss of someone they cared about.

"I promise you we're going to do everything we can to catch the person responsible and bring them to justice. But I need your help. Do you think you can answer a couple questions for me? Just so we can get an idea of what Ashley's life was like, and then we can piece together how the person who did this came into contact with her. Does that make sense?"

Kathryn nodded, brushing away stray tears with the back of her hand before pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as Emma pulled out a small notepad and pen.

"Ashley's husband, he's away?"

"Yeah. Sean. His dad lives in Pittsburgh now, and he goes to see him the last weekend of every month. He's done that since they moved here a couple years ago. This house is Sean's dad's."

Emma nodded, hastily jotting down the information.

"And do they have any kids?"

Kathryn smiled sadly and shook her head.

"No…well, they had a baby when they were younger. Ashley was still a teenager and they put the baby up for adoption. They had a girl and called her Alexandra, but it was before I knew them, so I don't really know much more than that."

Emma couldn't help but feel that this was all somehow going to end up being pivotal information, so she made sure she noted every detail, ignoring the unsettle feeling that churned in her stomach every time adoption was mentioned. Keeping her focus firmly on what Kathryn was saying, she squashed down her unease. She knew all too well that asking the right questions could sometimes crack a case wide open, or at least lead them down the right path for doing so.

"I know this next question may seem disrespectful, but I have to ask…did Ashley or Sean ever have any affairs? Were there any problems in the relationship that you knew about?"

Kathryn looked horrified and vehemently shook her head.

"No. No way. I mean, they had the occasional argument, but what couple doesn't? Neither of them would've cheated though. They got married last year and Sean just got a promotion a couple months ago. They only came back from Paris last week – they were celebrating their anniversary. They were happy. They loved each other and everyone loved them," she sighed, shoulders slumping, "You won't find anyone who had a grudge against either of them."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Swan, you disappeared. 'ow many times do I have to ask you to  _tell me_  before you ditch?"

"Come here. Look at this."

Emma had indeed 'ditched' the crime scene as soon as Kathryn had disappeared inside her house. She had a hunch, and it couldn't wait. She'd long since learned to trust her gut when it came to her job, because her instincts rarely let her down. The smashed photograph of the baby had stuck with her, and she couldn't help but follow her suspicions, so she'd jumped straight into her car and headed back to the station.

Upon arriving, she'd headed straight to the back room, where Killian's FBI tech genius was stationed, surrounded by screens and typing a mile a minute. As Emma awkwardly tapped on the open door, the pretty brunette swung around in her chair, seemingly startled by the interruption.

"Uh…hi. I'm-"

"Detective Emma Swan. Yep. I know."

The woman smiled shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma silently wondered if having an accent was a pre-requisite for a job on Killian's team.

"I'm Belle. Tech girl. How can I help?"

Back to business, Emma relayed the cliffnotes version of the crime scene and her hunch about the smashed photograph being significant in some way. Belle nodded along, and once Emma was finished, she swung back around to face her computer screens.

"So, what would you like me to search for?"

"Uh…can you pull up the medical records and birth certificate of Ashley Boyd's baby? Find out when and where the baby was born, and if she's been adopted? If the baby isn't her husband's, we might be dealing with a pissed off biological father…"

Belle nodded as her hands flew elegantly across the keyboard. A few minutes later, the birth certificate for Alexandra Herman popped up on the screen. Sean was indeed listed as her father, but Emma had anticipated that. With one avenue ruled out, she moved on.

"Okay…can you see if either of the other victims had babies? Specifically if they gave babies up for adoption…"

Belle nodded once again and repeated her search with modified parameters. After a couple of minutes, with Emma attempting to follow Belle's quick movements between screens and failing miserably, Belle gave a low whistle and glanced at Emma with an impressed quirk of her eyebrows.

"Well…looks like you're onto something. All three women have had babies in the last five years. And all of them have given the babies up for adoption…"

Emma bit back a grin, her pulse quickening with adrenaline and pride. She loved when her hunches came through for her.

"Looks like we have a lead. Which adoption agencies did they use?"

A few more clicks and Belle stilled. When she spoke again, Emma couldn't quite believe her answer.

"They all used the same agency."


	3. Chapter 3

"So go on then, 'ow the bloody hell did you figure that connection out?"

Will was staring in amazement at the screen as Emma talked him through what Belle had uncovered thanks to the hunch she'd gotten at the crime scene. The hunch that had turned out to be one hell of a hot lead, and which she was hoping could be the first break in the case.

With a smug grin, she told him how the smashed photograph had seemed like overkill compared to the rest. And it had nagged at her, so she'd followed her instincts and returned to the station to follow up on it. She admitted to not expecting too much to come of it, until finding that putting babies up for adoption was a common denominator with all the victims. And surely  _that_  couldn't be coincidence.

When it had turned out that all the women had gone through the same agency too…well, she couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself. Even Belle had been impressed.

"An' this adoption agency? 'Ow's it possible they all used the same one? The victims aren't even in the same state."

"They have offices in twelve states. Their Head Office is right here in Boston though. It's essentially a business that trades in children."

Emma couldn't help the edge in her voice, a bitter taste in her mouth as she scrolled through the website of Hopeful Hearts Adoption Agency. It was years since she'd been in the system, but the old wounds and fragile scars were never too far from the surface, especially when her past crept up on her in the workplace.

She felt Will squeeze her shoulder, but didn't acknowledge the silent gesture of comfort, keeping her eyes on the screen. He knew better than to ask her if she was alright, so he left it at that. She hadn't told him all that much about her past, but he knew she'd been in the system from birth, and hadn't had the easiest time growing up. He was intuitive though, and he knew her well, so she didn't have to say much for him to know when something had gotten under her skin.

Deciding to focus on the lead Emma had found and leave well enough alone when it came to her past, Will leaned his forearms on the back of her chair, peering over to see what she'd found on the website.

"So, I'm guessin' we go an' have a lil' chat with the boss man of…'Hopeful Hearts' then, huh? Wow…ironic name, considerin'…"

"Woman."

"What?"

Emma grinned triumphantly, swinging around on her chair and almost causing Will to lose his balance. As he righted himself, he frowned at her grin.

"Woman," she repeated, "The person who runs the agency is a woman. Regina Mills. And yeah, we're gonna go have a little chat with her."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Jones. Hi. Sorry I disappeared."

Emma was just pulling into the parking lot of an unassuming office building housing Hopeful Hearts Adoption Agency, when her phone rang. Noticing Killian's number popping up, she groaned. She hadn't stopped to fill him in on her discovery yet, and if she was honest it'd slipped her mind that this was technically not  _her_  case anymore. She had to answer to the feds. And she knew that probably meant she should be getting the go-ahead before she went straight in to question a possible suspect. But Emma had never really done well with authority figures.

"Where are you? I've just arrived back at the station-"

"Uh…had a…thing…I had to deal with. Emergency. I'll tell you later. Gotta go."

With that, she hung up, pointedly ignoring the disapproving look aimed at her from the passenger seat.

"Shut up," she warned, even though Will hadn't even opened his mouth, "I just wanna see if we're running down the right route here. I'll give him an update later. But he thinks it's a guy, and if I'm gonna prove him wrong – if Regina Mills is someone we need to be taking a closer look at – then I need a headstart."

Will sighed and shook his head, knowing that she wouldn't listen even if he wanted to argue with her. She was the lead on their cases for a reason, and he had to admit that she was rarely wrong when she followed her instincts. He just hoped she wouldn't end up getting her instincts mixed up with a desire to one-up the feds out of spite, or to prove a point. She wasn't a petty person, but she was stubborn and relentless. There was a reason she had the best success rate in their precinct, after all.

Emma strode across the parking lot, chin tilted upward in a show of defiant confidence Will knew was mostly a façade. They'd worked a homicide case a little while back, and during the course of the case, they'd had to interview the victim's daughter who had been in the system for a few years. Everytime they'd gone to the group home, Will had noticed Emma's demeanor change. It was as though being in that environment again, regardless of circumstance, made her defence mechanisms go into overdrive, her subconscious instinctively pulling down the shutters to protect her. He couldn't help but wonder how much she was actually aware of doing it, but he knew that if he broached the topic, she'd snap at him. Something along the lines of, "don't try to psychoanalyze me, Scarlet" and that would be the end of that.

When they arrived on the sixth floor, Emma headed straight for the reception desk, where a bored-looking young woman chewing on the end of her pen glanced up and levelled an uninterested gaze on her.

"Can I help you?"

She asked, in a flat tone that suggested she'd rather do anything  _but_  help. Emma offered her a tight smile and lifted her badge. The girl sighed, finally removing the pen from her mouth and reaching for the phone.

"Which one ran away this time?"

She asked without looking up, and Emma gritted her teeth, the tension in her shoulders making her neck ache.

"This isn't about a run away. I need to speak with Regina Mills. Is she here?"

The girl shrugged, punching in a number and staring Emma down as she waited for the call to be answered.

"Ms. Mills, got a cop in the lobby. She wants to talk to you…no, it's not about a runaway, apparently…yeah. Yeah, okay," the girl hung up and addressed Emma again, "She's coming down now. Wait over there."

Emma chose not to say anything more, despite her rising irritation, and moved to perch on an uncomfortable waiting-room style chair facing the reception desk. Will followed, about to make a comment about customer service and the kid's attitude, but Regina Mills chose that moment to appear.

She was pristine in a cold, severe way. Her tailored skirt suit was clearly expensive, her nails manicured and her hair styled flawlessly. She reminded Will of a mean, no-nonsense headteacher and he found himself feeling as though he should tuck in his shirt and stand a little straighter. Her gaze was stony as she looked the pair up and down in one sweeping glance, before gesturing toward the door she'd just emerged from.

"My office, please."

They shuffled after her as she led the way down a short, narrow hallway, which opened up into a spacious office, floor to ceiling windows on one side with framed photos of seemingly-happy families adorning the opposite wall. Despite all the photos, the room felt somewhat clinical the chrome and black color scheme not lending itself to a warm atmosphere.

"So what is it I can help you with, Ms…?"

"Detective," Emma corrected immediately, "Detective Emma Swan, Boston Homicide."

She held up her badge and noticed Regina waver slightly, a flash of surprise in her cold gaze that was gone so fast Emma thought she may have imagined it.

"Homicide, hmm? Well, I can assure you our company has nothing to do with any homicides. And all our children are alive, well and accounted for."

Emma could hear the defensive edge to her voice, and it piqued her interest. Generally, people didn't immediately go on the defensive unless they had something to hide.

"I didn't accuse you or your company of anything, Ms. Mills," Emma held back on sounding too smug, but Regina bristled regardless, "We simply need your help with a case we're currently working on."

Walking toward her desk and perching on the edge of it, Regina carefully appraised Emma, silence stretching thick and heavy in the room, making Will shuffle his feet with discomfort. Women like Regina had always made him uncomfortable, but Emma seemed unfazed by her, much to Regina's chagrin, apparently, because the woman gave an irritated sigh. Moving to sit in her chair behind her desk, she folded her arms.

"Fine, what is it I can  _help_  you with, Detectives?"

Emma walked over and sat down uninvited on one of the chairs in front of Regina's desk, Will quickly following suit and taking the other.

"It seems the victims in our current case were clients of yours. Three victims, three children. All put into the system through your company."

Regina looked unperturbed, arching her eyebrow and levelling an icy, bemused stare on Emma.

"We deal with hundreds of children and families every week,  _Detective_ Swan. And we're the biggest and most successful agency on the East coast. So, apologies if I find your  _evidence_  for coming here entirely circumstantial."

"Again, I'm not accusing you of anything, Ms. Mills. No need to get defensive," Emma shot back and Will winced, able to hear the smirk in her voice, "We're simply here to follow up on what happened to each of the children of our victims. That might help us narrow down our search. There are three files we'll need-"

"And do you have a search warrant? Because that is  _confidential_  information, as I'm sure you're well aware. You strike me as someone who's familiar with the system, Detective. Am I right?"

It was Emma's turn to bristle, her jaw clenching at the way Regina had read her so easily, evidently picking up on some telling little nuance that had screamed 'orphan' to the woman sitting across from her.

"We'll be back with a warrant. Thank you for  _all_  your help."

Emma bit out tersely. The sarcasm in her tone made Regina smirk in a self-satisfied manner as she watched Emma march out of her office, her partner on her heels. She knew she'd hit a nerve.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"What the hell was that? You hung up on me-"

Killian was hot on her heels before Emma had even made it to her desk. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead shrugged off her jacket, tossing a bemused glance over her shoulder at him.

"I was busy."

"Busy? I assume by 'busy' you mean 'chasing your own leads that you hadn't bothered to inform me about before charging headfirst into questioning a person of interest'? That's not how this works now, Swan!"

Emma spun on her heel to face him, fire in her eyes, and heard Will mutter, "That's  _Detective_  Swan to you" from across the desk. Unsure whether he was attempting to mimic her or simply supplying what they both knew was on the tip of her tongue, she chose to ignore his comment and instead focused all her wrath on the man in front of her.

"Well, I'm  _so_  sorry,  _Special Agent Jones_ , that my ability to  _do my damn job_  is apparently much better at getting results than _yours_!"

He wasn't letting up though, stepping closer to her with fire in his own eyes now. Fire which only served to stoke her own.

"You think you can handle this by yourself? This is bigger than you,  _Detective_  Swan. This is bigger than one isolated case in one city. There's a reason we were called in. I understand you're good at your job, but this is my job, and you hurtling headfirst into interrogating someone could compromise this entire case!"

"I'm not the one who failed to see the  _obvious_! You're so quick to disregard my work, just because what I've found doesn't jive with your damn profile."

The whole bullpen had fallen silent now, every officer in the room watching the argument unfold before them. The tension between the two was palpable, and no one even dared to whisper, all too intent on watching the fireworks instead of dousing them out as the anger escalated.

Killian growled in exasperation, jaw twitching and eyes flashing. They were both painfully unaware of everyone watching them, too lost in their fury at each other.

"So  _that's_  what this is about?! You just want to prove me wrong? That's not how  _evidence_  works,  _Detective_. You don't fit evidence to your theories-"

"I didn't fit evidence to anything! I picked up on something at the crime scene, which you  _failed_  to notice. I followed it up. I got a legitimate break. Followed that up, got a suspect," she was toe-to-toe with him by now, "Maybe what this is  _about_  is that I'm perfectly capable of leading this case  _without_  you-"

"Bloody hell, woman! You're insufferable! I have never insinuated for a moment that you aren't capable!"

"Then why the fuck are you riding my ass?!"

The room was plunged into silence, punctuated only by Will spluttering and coughing as the coffee he'd been drinking shot out of his nose and mouth. Emma could feel her cheeks burning and quickly stepped back to put distance between herself and Killian, who was scratching behind his ear and looking decidedly mortified. The rest of the room (bar Will) may have been unaware of what exactly had transpired between them before he'd taken over the case, but she'd just reminded the two of them (and Will) about it with jarring clarity. And Killian was sure his cheeks were as red as hers.

Before either had a chance to say another word, David's voice broke the awkward silence.

"Detective Swan, Special Agent Jones. My office. Now."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Standing awkwardly in the middle of David's office, the blinds pulled shut for privacy, Killian couldn't help but feel a little like they'd been dragged into the Principal's office. David was ranting about "professionalism" and "united fronts" and "setting an example to the team", while Emma glared at the floor with her arms folded tightly and the muscle in her jaw twitching every now and then. He ran a hand through his hair, nodding absently and only half-listening to David's scolding.

"So you two are gonna stay in here and talk it out, using your big kid words like the professional adults you're both supposed to be, instead of bickering like middle schoolers in front of the rest of the station. Got it?"

He didn't give them chance to answer, levelling a withering (and somewhat fatherly) look on Emma, at which she rolled her eyes, before leaving the two of them in an awkward silent stand-off. After a solid minute of nothing but Emma pointedly avoiding eye contact and glaring a hole in the floor, Killian sighed in exasperation.

"I thought we'd called a truce on…all of this?"

He gestured between them at the invisible tension that was practically palpable. Emma lifted her gaze from the floor, finally, fire in her eyes that he was becoming accustomed to, and scoffed.

"We had, before you went and completely disregarded solid detective work because it doesn't fit with your precious profile."

Killian bit his tongue, carefully measuring his words against a tide of frustration.

"I didn't disregard anything. You just clearly have an issue with authority figures-"

"Oh, I do, do I? Cos you know me _so well_  already. Newsflash, Jones: you  _don't_  know me. So stick to the actual case and stop trying to profile me."

He could feel the tension in his shoulders as he stepped forward slightly, noting the way her eyes flashed and her pupils dilated as she watched him.

"You seem determined to hate me, for some reason. I'm not the enemy; I'm not saying you're anything less than a brilliant detective with good instincts. I'm not fighting you, Emma. But you seem intent on fighting me."

Her cheeks were pink, but still she glared.

"Then let me do my damn job."

"I am! But there's certain ways we have to work when it's a federal case, Swan! You go charging headfirst into interrogating someone and you compromise the case-"

"I didn't interrogate her! I just went to  _talk_  to her."

Emma argued, refusing to back down, and Killian gave an exasperated sigh.

"Your version of  _talking_  is very much like _interrogating_. And now she's likely to lawyer up too. So instead of waiting to build the case first, you've given her a chance to get herself a cover story."

"It's not like you would've actually taken me seriously and followed the lead though. Your  _profile_  says it's a guy you're looking for-"

"So?!"

The tension in the room was rising again, and Killian was somewhat thankful for the privacy of the small office this time. They were almost toe-to-toe again, voices rising, and he'd be lying if he said her proximity did nothing to him.

" _So_ , you're making excuses! You wouldn't have followed my lead if I'd come to you first and you know it!"

"You're wrong, Swan. So perhaps  _you_  don't know  _me_  as well as you seem to think you do, either. I told you before, I follow  _evidence,_  and if it disproves aspects of a profile, we alter the profile-"

"God, I wanna kiss you to make you shut the fuck up."

She snapped, and Killian felt his heart still in his chest for a moment. He watched as she blinked in surprise, her eyes widening, and she quickly stepped backwards, forcibly putting distance back between them. She was quite clearly as shocked as he was, mumbling and cursing under her breath about saying what she'd said out loud. Before he had regained his ability to speak again, she was disappearing out of the door, leaving him standing alone in David's office in a state of shock.

The revelation that Emma Swan wasn't quite as unaffected by what was between them as she had made him believe was certainly a development Killian was keen to explore. He knew that Emma's willingness to do so, however, was unlikely to match his.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

Unsurprisingly, avoidance was the tactic Emma chose to employ for the rest of the day. When he emerged from David's office after gathering his thoughts and regaining his ability to string a sentence together, he found she was nowhere to be seen…which is what he'd expected. He may have only known her for a brief time, but she was an open book to him, at least when it came to her ability – or lack thereof – in dealing with anything remotely personal.

Her partner, however, was sat at his desk, turning in half-circles on his chair and eyeing Killian as he tentatively made his way over.

"A'ight," Will greeted him, somewhat coolly, "If you're lookin' for Swan, don't bother. She don't wanna speak to yeh right now."

Killian forced a tight smile.

"I'd like-"

"I don't give a flyin' fuck what you'd like, mate. The lady needs some space, so give it 'er. I didn't get in ya face before 'cos I know she woulda clocked me one in the gob if I'd stepped in, but you don't yell at me partner again, got it? 'Specially not in front of all our people."

Will stood up then, grabbing keys for the patrol car and canting his head toward the door.

"Think you and I should have a little talk. Come on."

Killian eyed Will warily, but acquiesced. He was too tired to argue with another member of the team, and despite the fact that Will came across as nothing more than a dopey puppy dog, Killian suspected he was underestimating the man.

Once in the patrol car, Will didn't turn on the engine. Instead, he sat silently in the driver's seat for a long moment, as though he was choosing his words carefully before he spoke. Killian simply waited, absently watching people coming and going across the parking lot.

"She's a tough lass," Will finally said, his voice softer than Killian had expected, "But only on th'outside. And she'd kill me if she knew I was 'avin' this little chat with you."

When Killian didn't reply, Will continued.

"Look, I know she's infuriatin'. Believe me, I  _know_. She's me partner and she gets on me last nerve some days. She's stubborn and argumentative and hates admittin' if she needs help. But she's also a bloody fantastic cop. Gifted, even. I swear she's got a superpower for tellin' when people are lyin'. And it's not my place to tell you about her past, but she ain't had it easy and there's a reason she is the way she is. So give 'er a break, a'ight? And trust her instincts."

Killian took in everything Will was saying, unable to help but wonder about Emma's past and what had led her to become so closed off and self-sufficient. It was quite clear she didn't trust easily, and he wondered how badly she'd been burned in the past to make her so suspicious. It couldn't just be her job that had hardened her heart.

"And maybe remember that she's used to  _leadin_ ' investigations now, not takin' orders from some bloke she's just met…" Will added, quirking an eyebrow, "I know you think you know her, but sleepin' with her and actually knowin' her are two different things."

Killian's eyebrow shot up and he could feel the color rising on his cheeks. So, Will knew. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered in passing about the nature of Will and Emma's relationship, or the stab of jealousy he felt at the idea that maybe they were more than partners. She clearly trusted the man, and Emma Swan's trust wasn't easy to come by.

"So uh-…she told you about that, huh? Are you and her…?"

Will barked a laugh, seemingly amused by the question, and shook his head.

"Nah mate, she's me partner. That's it. More like me big sister than anythin' else. And she scares the shit outta me, to be honest. Not ashamed to admit that either. But I care about 'er a lot, and it's part of my job to protect 'er, even though I know she'd have me balls in a jar if she knew 'bout this conversation. But as I said, bein' a hardarse is her way of protectin' 'erself. She's a proper softy behind all that armor she wears. Just takes a lotta chippin' away for her to let you see it."

After a beat, with Killian not knowing how to possibly respond other than to nod as he locked the information away to mull over later, Will sighed and nodded toward the building in front of them.

"We better get back to work. Murderers runnin' round an' all that."

* * *

_CS_

* * *

It was a little before 9pm by the time Killian returned to his hotel room that night. After staying late at the station to pore over the three victims' files, trying to find as many links between the three as possible, as well as digging into what he could find about Regina Mills, he grabbed a bite to eat and walked back. Dropping down heavily to sit on the edge his bed, he tugged off his tie and loosened the top few buttons of his shirt with a sigh.

The case was wearing heavy already, but this time it wasn't just the usual emotional weight of being faced with the terrible things human beings were capable of doing to each other. No, this time there was the added pressure of also dealing with a detective who had gotten under his skin since the first minute he'd met her. He'd inevitably find his thoughts drifting back to her and the single night they'd spent together. No one-night stand had ever screwed with his head this much.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Killian stared at it for a long moment, glancing at the clock on his bedside table before quickly unlocking the phone and pulling up his recent contacts. Before he could overthink it, he pressed call on Emma's number. He knew it was her work cell phone, so he wasn't sure she'd even have it to-hand, or even switched on, especially after their latest little altercation.

But sure enough, after four rings, she answered, and Killian pointedly ignored the way his his pulse fluttered involuntarily just from the sound of her voice.

"Hello?"

"Uh- Swan...hello. It's Killian…Jones."

She paused, making a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, before replying.

"Yeah, thanks for that helpful hint. The fact that your caller ID comes up kinda gives it away. And you don't have to clarify your last name...I don't exactly know a whole bunch of Killians."

He could practically feel her rolling her eyes at him across the line and smiled despite himself.

"Oh. Right. Of course. I'm not entirely with it this evening…"

"Let me guess, you can't sleep again because you're scared you pissed me off. Again."

She was teasing him and he could hear the amusement in her voice. He couldn't help but smile at the mental image he had of her sat in bed, tucked up with some murder mystery novel that he'd interrupted, joking at his expense.

In reality, across town, Emma was curled up on her sofa, lights turned down low and a bottle of beer in her hand. When he called she'd been browsing through Amazon on her laptop, looking for a housewarming gift for David and Mary Margaret's new place, with the TV turned to some trashy reality show that had been providing background noise but not much else.

Killian chuckled softly, scratching behind his ear; a nervous habit he'd never been able to break.

"Are you mocking my gentlemanly sensitivities, Detective Swan?"

He joked, pretending to be hurt and making sure to keep his tone void of anything seductive for fear of scaring her off. She sounded like she was in a better mood than she'd been in when he last saw her at the station, and he wasn't about to ruin it.

"Oh, please," she scoffed lightly, before switching the subject, "So, why  _did_  you call?"

Back to business. Right.

"Well, I worked late tonight, going over all the files and trying to find anything or anyone that could even remotely link our three victims. They all used different companies for everything - TV providers, banks, insurance companies. No common denominators. The only thing they all have in common...is the adoption factor, and the fact that they all used the same agency. And that's a pretty compelling factor-"

"Congratulations on catching up with the rest of the class, Captain State-the-Obvious."

She cut in smugly, and it was his turn to roll his eyes as he bit back a grin.

"Alright, alright. I admit, I'm impressed. Your hunch was pretty spectacular."

"Well, I'm a pretty spectacular cop."

"I've noticed."

There was a beat of silence, and he was half expecting her to say goodnight and hang up, but to his surprise, she didn't.

Instead, she shifted her position where she sat on her sofa, untucking her legs out from under her and pulling them to her chest instead, her laptop pushed aside and long-forgotten.

"So, tomorrow we're gonna focus on Mills then? See what we can dig up on her? Maybe pull her in for questioning? I didn't trust her a single bit; she was definitely hiding something."

Killian dropped back to lay across his bed, staring up at the ceiling and sighing.

"We'll _invite_  her in. Ask her to volunteer the files of the victims' babies. At this point we don't have any solid evidence that she or the agency were involved directly with anything. But we can't ignore that all our victims used them and the fact that they're the only thing we can find at this point that links them all. If she doesn't co-operate and give us the files, then we'll get a warrant and do it the hard way."

"Mhm. I doubt she'll co-operate. She was a Grade A bitch when I met her."

She stretched her legs out and stood up, flipping the lid of her laptop down as she made her way to the kitchen to get rid of her now-empty beer bottle. Across town, Killian chuckled and shook his head, running a hand absently through his hair.

"Aye, love, but I imagine that may be more to do with you charging in there and rubbing her up the wrong way."

"Are you saying I'm abrasive?!"

She sounded affronted, but there was an edge of amusement to her tone that had him grinning. She was stood barefoot in her kitchen, the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder.

"Not in the slightest. On the contrary, actually. But even without meeting the woman, just from digging up what a Google search offered up about her, I get the sense she's one of those feisty, high-flying women-in-power who take an immediate dislike to beautiful, intelligent women who are equally as feisty."

There was that beat of silence again, and Killian realized a little too late that he'd outright called her beautiful. He held his breath.

Emma had stopped in the doorway to her bedroom, trying to steady her pulse as his words ricocheted around her head. He had sounded sincere with his offhanded comment, and her instinct had been to shut him down fast and hard. But she didn't.

"Bet you say that to all the girls."

She finally replied, her voice softer than she'd intended. Killian's heart stuttered in his chest, his breath catching in his throat for a moment. This was a side of Emma he hadn't really seen yet. He'd had the pleasure of her flirty, sexy persona on the night they'd met, and her tough, dedicated detective side in the days that followed. But he hadn't seen this relaxed side of her until now, and he had to admit, he liked it.

"I assure you, it's simply the truth, Swan," he said with a smile, "So, do tell, what is it that's put you in a good mood this evening?"

Emma rolled her eyes, switching on her bedside lamp and slipping into bed.

"What makes you think I'm in a good mood?"

"Well, for a start, we've been talking for longer than thirty seconds and you haven't hung up on me or called me any names yet. Other than Captain State-the-Obvious, and I can live with that."

Emma snorted a laugh and Killian couldn't help but chuckle at the unladylike sound and how weirdly attractive it was from her. But a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered accusingly that he'd find anything she did attractive. He ignored it.

"Well, if you must know, I have these bath salts that are the fucking shit. I swear the fumes must get me high or something because I'm chilled out as fuck after I've soaked them in for long enough. Oh, and beer. That helped. So, yeah, I guess I'm in a pretty good mood. That, and the fact that you've called me to tell me I was right all along. Which I knew, for the record. But hearing you say it is a bonus. Maybe you should get me cupcakes that spell out "you were right, I'm sorry". They would be well-received."

Killian couldn't help but laugh, a hearty sound that was apparently infectious, because before she knew it, Emma was laughing too.

"Alright, I'll bring you cupcakes. I think it warrants it after I called you insufferable in front of the entire station this morning…"

"Wondered when you'd bring that up."

Shuffling back on the bed to prop himself up by the pillows, Killian felt the urge the drive the conversation back in the direction it had just been going. He enjoyed hearing her laugh, especially when he was the cause of it.

"What are you doing?"

He asked, swiftly maneuvering their topic of conversation away from the events of that morning.

"Uh...I just got into bed…?"

He could hear the suspicion laced into her words, as though she was half expecting him to ask her what she was wearing next.

"Aye, same here. Got back late and figured I'd call you and let you know what I'd found from the files before I called it a night."

She relaxed a little when he refrained from steering them down a decidedly less innocent route. Now that they were working together, she was hyper-aware of every interaction, not wanting him to read too much into anything or give him the impression that she wanted a repeat of their night together. Well, okay, she totally  _did_  want a repeat of the sex, but not with someone she now worked with. It was complicated. And Emma Swan didn't do complicated.

"Well, if you're working late again and you're stuck for somewhere to grab food, there's a great little place a couple blocks from your hotel called Granny's. Tell Granny I sent you. And if you stop by there for breakfast, the bearclaws are homemade and to-die-for."

"I've no idea what a 'bearclaw' is, love, but I'll keep that recommendation in mind. Thank you. Perhaps...maybe...you'd like to join me for breakfast tomorrow?"

There was a pregnant pause on the line until Emma cleared her throat.

"Uh...I dunno. I'm usually a grab-and-go girl…"

"Yes, I'm acutely aware of that."

Another pause, and Killian cringed. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Wishing he could take back the words that had slipped thoughtlessly from his mouth, he fumbled for a way to backtrack.

"Emma, I didn't mean-"

"No, I got it. I know  _exactly_  what you meant. I gotta go, Jones. Bye."

And with that, she hung up, leaving Killian with a heavy, sinking feeling in his gut, mentally kicking himself for once again ruining what had otherwise been their best conversation to-date. He was cursing himself and his careless mouth when his phone began to ring a few seconds later. Frowning, he stared down at Emma's name on the screen, before hurriedly answering.

"Swan, I-"

"I'm sorry. For uh-...hanging up," she sighed wearily, "I'm not very good at...being a normal, functioning adult. We're good, right?"

Killian's heart skipped, and he couldn't help the grin that lit his face.

"Of course-"

She cut him off again, "And I'm sorry for yelling at you in front of the whole station and telling you to stop riding my ass. That was-...unprofessional. So yeah...sorry."

"Water under the bridge, lass, I assure you."

Killian assured her, wondering if she could hear the smile on his face down the line.

She could.

"I'm-...gonna get some sleep now. You should too. Goodnight, Killian."

"Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well, love."

They both hung up then, sinking down into their pillows on opposite sides of town. And that was the first night since they'd crashed into each other's lives that they both managed to get a good night's sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Killian woke up feeling refreshed for the first time since starting the case; he even found himself humming a jaunty little tune in the shower, pointedly shrugging off acknowledging the fact that one little interaction with a woman he hardly knew could have such an impact on his mood.

But nevertheless, once he was dressed and ready for the day, he took the advice Emma had given him and dropped by Granny's Diner for breakfast. He found the place easily enough and slid into an empty booth. An attractive brunette, whose name he probably could have figured out without the aid of her name tag, approached immediately with a bright yet wolfish smile, and offered him coffee. Before he'd even accepted, she was pouring him a cup, and eying him curiously.

"Cop, right?"

She said, more a statement than a question.

"Indeed. In fact, one of your regulars recommended I come in for-"

"Emma, I assume."

Ruby said, cutting him off with a somewhat knowing smile. A grey-haired older woman with sharp yet kind eyes that inspected him over the top of her glasses appeared and shoo'd the young brunette off back to the counter. Killian raised his eyebrows and absently stirred creamer into his coffee.

"Excuse my granddaughter. She sometimes forgets when to respect boundaries. What can I get you?"

He was just done ordering his eggs and bacon, taking a sip of his surprisingly good cup of coffee, when the bell above the door jingled. Granny called out a greeting without even glancing toward the door.

"Morning, Emma. It's on the counter. And tell William we're out of the cherry ones. That's why he's got blueberry frosting today."

Killian snapped his head around so fast when he heard her name that he was pretty sure he would be feeling it later, and he didn't miss the smirk Ruby had levelled on him from behind the counter. But all he could focus on was the sight of Emma Swan, her back to him, dressed in shorts, a running sweatshirt and well-worn sneakers, with her hair piled into a messy bun atop her head, as she grabbed the brown bag and takeout cup with a grin and a cheery "thanks, Granny!"

She didn't seem to have noticed his presence until Ruby not-so-subtly cleared her throat and canted her head in his direction. Emma turned then, eyes widening slightly in surprise as she faced him. He offered an awkward wave and she seemed to hesitate before approaching, takeout in-hand.

"Uh...hey. So, I guess you took the recommendation then."

She seemed a little thrown to see him there, despite suggesting the place to him. But perhaps, he supposed, she hadn't counted on ever being there with him. And that thought had an unwelcome sense of disappointment that he couldn't really explain sitting heavy in his grumbling stomach.

"Yeah," he managed a small smile, "Coffee's good so far, which is always a reasonable measure of a place."

She smiled politely and nodded her head back toward the door.

"I'll catch you at the station later. Enjoy your breakfast."

He nodded, and watched her retreat. Once she'd disappeared out of the door, he deflated with a sigh, silently congratulating himself on a needlessly awkward exchange. He was kicking himself for how this woman managed to make him feel so unsteady, without even trying.

"I can put this in a take-out box if you wanna chase after her?"

Killian glanced up sharply to find Ruby holding his breakfast plate, the knowing tilt of her smile still firmly in place. As tempted as he was to agree and attempt to catch up with Emma, he wasn't entirely sure she'd welcome it, and he wasn't about to push his presence on her without invitation. So, he quickly shook his head and forced a smile, thanking Ruby politely as she shrugged and set the plate down in front of him.

Attempting to push the image of Emma Swan in running shorts out of his mind, and silently chastising himself for the fact that his brain so easily reverted to that of a thirteen year old boy's when it came to Emma, he focused instead on digging into his breakfast.

After devouring the bacon and eggs (which, he had to admit, were pretty damn delicious), Killian had been ready to make his way straight to the station...until a little storefront across the street caught his eye. A bakery.

" _Maybe you should get me cupcakes that spell out 'you were right, I'm sorry'. They would be well-received."_

Emma's teasing suggestion from their late-night phone call came back to him and, despite knowing full well that her comment had been made in jest, he couldn't resist entertaining the idea of surprising her with the sweet treats.

For a moment or two, he debated whether or not to actually go ahead and get the cupcakes she'd jokingly demanded of him, but he mused that making sure her sugar levels were kept sufficiently high was probably in his best interest. That was his excuse, anyway, as he crossed the street. He decided to forgo the apology piping, and instead opted for a mixture of plain icing, sprinkles and gummy bears. Of course, he'd never admit how long he actually spent in that little bakery on the corner, agonizing over which bloody cupcakes Emma Swan would favor most.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Cupcakes…nice touch. She prefers bearclaws in the mornin' though. In case you happen to piss her off again."

Will smirked over his take-out coffee cup, as Killian placed the box of six assorted cupcakes down on Emma's desk and rolled his eyes.

"Why are you here so early, anyway, Scarlet?"

Killian decided to shift the topic of conversation away from the sugary gifts, not wishing to say anything that would ultimately pique any further interest. It wasn't exactly hard to redirect Will's train of thought, thankfully.

"Cos I'm a bloody muppet and set me alarm too early. So I thought 'fuck it', may as well come in early and do the paperwork that Swan's gonna make me do today anyway. Not like I got owt better to do."

Will shrugged and took a bite out of the breakfast burrito that sat half-eaten in front of him and Killian shook his head with a smile. He couldn't help but find the young cop more than a little endearing.

"What are those for?"

Emma's voice from behind him took Killian by surprise and he quickly spun round to face her. She'd clearly arrived at the station a little before him and managed to shower and change quickly, if the pleasant scent of her vanilla soap and the fact that she was now wearing her usual work clothes were anything to go by. She had the bag she'd picked up from Granny's in-hand, though seemingly forgotten as she stared at the cupcakes.

"Oh-...well, I was passing a quaint little bakery after breakfast and recalled you threatening me last night. Something along the lines of how I better bring you cupcakes if I knew what was good for me."

Emma looked immediately affronted.

"Hey! I did not-" the amusement on his face quickly had realization dawning on her and she smiled sheepishly, "Oh...joking. Right."

She turned her attention briefly to Will, handing him the bag from Granny's and informing him that they were out of cherry, ignoring his huff of disappointment before making a beeline for the cupcakes on her own desk. She dropped down into her desk chair and wasted no time in flipping open the lid of the cupcake box, inspecting the contents. She hummed in appreciation and Killian pointedly ignored the thrill that ran through him knowing he'd scored some points for his thoughtful, possibly-diabetes-inducing gesture.

"Good choices. Thanks...you didn't have to do that, though. I  _was_  joking. Though I'm kinda disappointed there's no apology icing."

She turned her head to grin up at him and the air momentarily backed up in his lungs but he stifled it with a chuckle and a shake of his head, his only tell being that nervous habit of scratching behind his ear as the tips of them burned bright red. If she noticed, she chose not to comment on his blushing and bashfulness, instead firing up her computer and picking out a cupcake to munch on.

He'd been about to excuse himself to check in with Belle for any updates, but he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze glued to her as she dipped her finger in the cupcake icing and licked it off. He was so fixated that he hadn't realized he was staring until she glanced up at him with her finger stuck in her mouth.

"Jones? You okay?"

He would have fully believed she was oblivious to what she was doing if her eyes weren't sparkling with mischief, and if she hadn't punctuated her question by sucking her finger back into her mouth while blatantly holding his gaze. Killian swallowed hard and stared at her in shock for a moment, before somehow managing to summon his composure.

"I'm just fine, Swan," he lied, his voice thankfully sounding much steadier than he felt, "You know where to find me if you want me."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed straight for the back office, desperate for a moment alone to find his equilibrium once more. This woman would be the death of him. She was unpredictable, a hurricane of curses and chaos, and yet at the same time, she was sharp and analytical, able to read a crime scene even better than he could, and puzzle together pieces at impressive speed. One minute she had her walls firmly up, shutting down even the slightest hint of flirtation and backing away from anything remotely resembling an interaction that wasn't strictly professional, and the next she was staring right into his eyes as she sucked icing from her finger, knowing full well what she was doing to him. She was a lesson in contradictions, was Detective Emma Swan. And God, did he want to learn.

Killian remained in his makeshift office for most of the morning, poring over all the analytics Belle had provided for him, which covered everything she'd managed to dig up on each of the victims, their immediate families and their friends, with an in-depth focus for around the time when they had each given up their babies. It was time consuming and somewhat ambiguous in the early stages, but necessary to build a picture of their victims' lives and how their killer had chosen them, out of the many couples who had given up babies to Regina Mills' group home.

Late-morning brought a phone-call he'd been waiting for. The judge presiding over the warrant request he'd sent in for recovery of the three files relevant to their case called with good news. As soon as he hung up, Killian made a few more quick phone-calls, and then headed out to the bullpen with a grin, making a beeline for Emma's desk, where she was deeply engrossed in whatever database search she was carrying out on her computer.

"Swan, good news. The warrant was finally approved so I've made an appointment to visit Ms. Mills at the children's home after lunch. I assume you wish to accompany me to retrieve the files? This was your lead, after all."

Emma immediately swung her chair around, and he could clearly see the surprise on her face. Whether it was due to the fact that the warrant had been approved so quickly, or that he wasn't going to fight her on chasing her own lead, he wasn't entirely sure. But either way, she wasn't going to argue, so she nodded eagerly and stood, grabbing her jacket.

"We can get lunch on the way. Let's go."

Killian followed her without pause, uncaring that they were far too early for the appointment yet. It gave them time to formulate interview tactics, he reasoned. It also gave him an excuse to grab lunch and some time alone with Emma without spooking her. He was already acutely aware of how easily she spooked when it came to seemingly-small gestures like sharing a meal together, so he'd take whatever he could get...all while telling himself that it was purely professional.

"How about we go to Granny's for lunch?"

Killian casually suggested as they headed out of the station. Emma glanced at him, and he didn't miss the flash of wariness in her eyes. He gestured toward his car, signalling that he'd drive, and she shrugged, stuffing her keys back into her pocket.

"Uh...I suppose we could grab something from there on the way."

"Well, we're in no rush. There's over an hour until the appointment with Ms. Mills. We can sit and discuss how we'll approach the interview. I only spoke with her briefly but she doesn't seem like someone who would willingly help if it doesn't benefit her. We need to use the right tactics with her."

Emma seemed to relax a little when he suggested the topic of conversation would be purely business if they sat and ate lunch together in the cozy diner, so she nodded her assent. Feeling like he'd somehow won a small victory with her, Killian did his best to hold back a grin and headed for the diner.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"Twice in one day. For both of you. This  _is_  a pleasant surprise."

"Hello to you too, Ruby."

Emma rolled her eyes and Killian simply followed her toward the far booth without comment. He couldn't help but wonder if the smirk the waitress wore was a permanent fixture on her red-painted lips, or if it was reserved only for them.

"I'm guessing the usual for you, Emma, but what about Mr. Tall, Dark & Scrumptious?"

Ruby kept her gaze locked on him unflinchingly as he took a seat opposite Emma, and Killian tried not to squirm in his seat, silently wishing Granny had been the one to seat them instead. Ignoring her gaze and the nickname she'd bestowed upon him, and oblivious to the withering glare Emma was levelling her friend with, he skimmed over the menu and quickly settled on the first thing that grabbed his attention.

"Uh...I'll have a back coffee and...the grilled cheese with a side of onion rings, please, lass."

Ruby snorted and he glanced up at her with a questioning look. She simply shook her head, trademark smirk firmly in place, and muttered something about him being 'predictable', before wandering off to the kitchen. Still somewhat confused by her reaction to his order, he shifted his gaze to Emma...and found her staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"What's the matter?"

He asked, and she seemed to be trying to read him for long moments that had him shifting in his seat once more. So far, this hadn't been how he'd hoped their lunch together would go.

"Did you order that on purpose?" She finally asked, an accusatory edge to her tone, "Because you know finding out someone's usual order and then ordering the same thing just comes across as creepy and stalkerish, and not cute, as you were probably intending...right?"

She was rambling, leaning back in her seat and avoiding his gaze. For a moment, Killian was still baffled, until realization finally dawned. He'd unknowingly ordered the same thing she always did. And she was apparently under the impression that he'd gone all SIngle, White Female on her in an awkward attempt to woo her, somehow.

Holding his hands up, he quickly shook his head.

"Swan, I assure you, if I ordered your usual choice it is by nothing but coincidence. I know you're good at telling when someone is lying, so use that superpower on me now. See that I'm being honest with you, love. And for the record, if I wished to be  _cute_ , as you put it, I can think of a hundred better way to achieve that than by placing the same lunch order, which, I agree, does sound somewhat 'creepy and stalkerish'..."

He raised his eyebrow and grinned at her earnestly, challenging her to find any lies in what he'd said. She studied him silently for a moment and then seemed to be satisfied he was telling the truth, the tension in her face and shoulders visibly dissipating.

"Fine. Guess you just have good taste."

She shrugged, a small and somewhat shy smile tugging the corners of her mouth upwards. He had to force his gaze away from her lips as Ruby returned with their drinks, and this time he noticed the glare from Emma and the pretty blush rising on her cheeks as the waitress levelled her with an intense and knowing look.

Once Ruby disappeared again, Killian sipped at his coffee before attempting further conversation.

"Does she always smirk? Or is that look reserved only for you, for some reason?"

Emma glanced warily at him over her hot chocolate, indecision in her eyes before she finally sighed.

"She seems to think I need setting up, even though I've told her a million times to knock it off with the matchmaking. She does it anytime she sees me with anyone. Men, women...doesn't matter. She tried it with me and David, which just…" she shuddered and shook her head, "He's like a brother to me. Same with Will. He's probably the closest I've ever had to a best friend. She once even tried to set me up with a random guy who happened to hold the damn door for me. She just assumes that if I'm talking to someone, even if it's just one word, it  _must_  mean I'm willing to screw them."

She finished her rant with a heavy sigh and a roll of her eyes. Killian chuckled, scratching his ear and feeling the heat on his cheeks.

"So, she's under the impression we'd make good bedmates? Interesting…"

That blush he so loved was back on her cheeks instantly and he watched from under his lashes as she swallowed thickly, only just realizing what she'd said. Ruby was attempting to push them together, oblivious to the fact that they'd already been there.

"I-...uh...anyway. The Mills interview! You had ideas on how to handle her? She's a piece of work but she's, like, creepily perceptive too. Oh, and she already doesn't like me. So, unless we wanna use a 'push her buttons' tactic, she'll probably respond better to you."

She was talking a mile a minute and the blush still sat high on her cheeks, as she desperately tried to maneuver the topic onto one she was much more comfortable with. He bit back a grin at how flustered she'd become, hiding it behind his coffee and schooling his face back into an expression of nonchalance before he lowered the cup again. It was a little comforting to him that he could apparently knock her off-kilter just the same as she so easily did to him.

Acquiescing to her panicked change of subject, he channeled his thoughts back to the case, and once Ruby had placed their matching food orders down in front of them, they dove enthusiastically into planning their interview tactics while devouring the best grilled cheese and onion rings in Boston.

* * *

_CS_

* * *

"You must be Special Agent Killian Jones. It's a pleasure. Please follow me to my office."

Regina was already in the lobby when the pair arrived, and immediately directed her attention to Killian, shaking his hand and giving him a much-too-practiced and borderline-predatory smile, while pointedly ignoring Emma's presence. Determined not to let the woman get under her skin, Emma gritted her teeth and remained silent as she followed them down the hallway. She'd anticipated an icy reception after their last interaction, so it didn't come as much of a surprise that Regina was less than welcoming toward her.

"So, how can I help you, Special Agent Jones? Or may I call you Killian?"

Killian offered a wan smile as he seated himself in front of Regina's desk, practically able to see Emma mentally rolling her eyes beside him. There was no denying the falsely saccharine facade of compliance the Children's Home director was putting on for his sake, but he wasn't buying it. She didn't have to know that though.

"Of course, Killian is fine. Detective Swan and I are simply here to find out any information we can to aid one of our active investigations. We have reason to believe someone has targeted your agency and the families that have used your services. Rest assured, I'm not suggesting that you personally know anything about it, but we need access to the files of three particular children to enable us to continue our investigation. I'm sure you understand."

Killian kept his smile firmly in place despite the unease he felt as Regina's interested gaze swept over him. She was still steadfastly ignoring Emma's existence and he was surprised his smart-mouthed colleague was holding her tongue thus far.

"Oh, well yes, of course,  _Killian_. Unfortunately, all our files are confidential though. And we treat our clients' rights to confidentiality with the highest regard, as I'm sure  _you_  understand."

Throwing his words back at him with an insincere tone of apology, Regina folded her hands on the table in front of her and gave him her best practiced expression of compassion. It didn't hit anywhere close to the mark.

"Too bad we have a warrant then."

Emma finally spoke up, eyes glittering with smug satisfaction as she slapped the signed warrant down on the desk and leaned back in her chair. Regina's smile wavered as her attention was finally shifted away from Killian and she eyed the piece of paper with barely-concealed disdain.

Shooting a sharp glare at Emma and snatching the paper up, she skimmed the page and then sighed, tapping away on her computer for a few moments. She then reached for her phone and dialed whom Emma assumed to be a personal assistant of some sort, considering the way Regina barked her orders to retrieve the three files listed on the warrant. After hanging up, Regina turned back to them.

"I'm having my assistant bring them through. But I assure you, my company has nothing to do with those women's deaths. On the contrary, we're in the business of  _completing_ families. Finding loving homes and parents for unwanted children. You won't find any discrepancies in our record keeping either. And I believe all of the children whose files you've requested are still in our system. It seems they haven't found homes yet."

Regina's gaze moved to Emma then, her passive aggressive and vindictive jibe causing Emma to instinctively ball her hands into fists, nails biting into the skin of her palms. Regina was well aware she'd hit a nerve during their last encounter when she'd recognized 'the orphan look', as she'd termed it, and she wasn't averse to using it against Emma now.

Killian could clearly see the tension and fury bubbling beneath the surface, not missing the way she'd clenched her fists under the desk. Calmly and subtly, he reached across and covered one of her balled hands with his, glad he could do so without Regina witnessing the need for him to calm her down before she erupted.

She slowly unfurled her hand and slipped it out from under his grasp, folding her arms. Satisfied that he'd managed to dissipate her fury, at least for the moment, Killian folded his own hands back in his lap as the room was plunged into a tense silence. Just as Killian was about to fish for more information about the company, and request files on all her employees, Regina's assistant entered, a harried look on her face.

"Uh...Ms. Mills...they're gone."

Annoyance flashed across Regina's face as she stared at her red-headed assistant with an icy expression.

"What do you mean, 'they're gone'? What's gone?"

"The files...the ones you asked for...they're empty…"

The young woman held up three manilla files, empty save for a label on the front of each one, displaying case numbers, names and birthdates of the children. She approached cautiously, nervously holding out the empty files for Regina, who snatched them with an exasperated growl.

"This is impossible. Files do not just  _disappear_ , Ariel. What the hell do I pay you for? Go find them. They must be somewhere."

Ariel hesitated, considering assuring her boss that she  _had_  looked everywhere, before deciding against it and nodding, fleeing from the room as quickly as she'd appeared.

Killian and Emma sat silently, eyeing Regina carefully as slammed the empty folders down on her desk and stood up, pacing the room for a few moments before seeming to gather her composure. Returning to her seat, she crossed her legs and folded her hands atop the desk with an air of aloof calmness and a tight smile.

"My airhead assistant is apparently incompetent too. I assure you that our files do  _not_  just  _'go missing'_. They're all electronically registered and filed. Access is by employee passcard only, and anyone accessing a file has their card details recorded on our database. When we locate the files, and we  _will_  locate them, I'll have them sent directly to you, Special Agent Jones. I apologize for the inconvenience, but apparently my staff require further  _basic_  training on how to return files once they've used them."

Regina was clearly furious, and Killian studied her for a moment before nodding and standing up.

"Alright, Ms. Mills. Thank you for your time and cooperation. Please send the files over to Boston Homicide marked for the attention of myself or Detective Swan as soon as possible."

Emma looked aghast for a moment, unable to believe he was willing to leave without the files. He gave her a pointed look of 'I'll explain later, just trust me on this' and he was relieved when she followed his lead without argument. Regina escorted them to the lobby and offered a clearly-distracted handshake to Killian before disappearing back toward her office.

Neither Emma nor Killian spoke until they were safely inside the car. Then, Emma turned to him with fire in her eyes.

"Why the hell did we leave, Jones? We're giving her and all her people time to get their stories straight! We should be in there keeping the pressure on. She knows damn fucking well where those files are. She probably stored them somewhere and fed us that bullshit about them going missing."

Killian glanced toward the front of the building and shook his head.

"I have the distinct feeling that Ms. Mills isn't the only one involved in all of this. And this morning, I spoke with the judge who approved the warrant...I got him to amend the initial request to include telephone recordings from all of Regina's phones. It was added at the end of the warrant, and I do believe Ms. Mills simply skimmed it when you gave it to her. She'll give us our evidence without even realizing it, Swan. And us leaving will only make her more likely to expose anyone else we should be looking at, because she'll likely make some hasty phonecalls in an attempt to cover her own back."

Emma stared at him, her mouth open slightly in surprise and, he liked to think, a little bit of awe. After a moment she gave a low whistle and shook her head.

"Damn, I'm impressed, Jones," she admitted, "Maybe you're actually better at this whole cop thing than I thought."

With an affronted scoff, he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I'll have you know I'm  _excellent_  at 'this whole cop thing', Detective. I do lead an  _elite_  team of FBI agents, after all."

"Yeah, well, from my experience, you guys are usually all bureaucratic bullshit and not much action. Color me pleasantly surprised."

She punched his shoulder lightly and grinned, sending that familiar spark zipping up his spine at the sight of her smile. He was unable to hold back his smirk, his voice dropping low as he locked his gaze on her. The banter came easily and they were both in good spirits now, with their suspect about to play right into their hands.

"I can assure you I'm more than willing and able to keep up with whatever  _action_  you're willing to partake in, lass."

There was a drawn out moment of thick silence, the electric tension between them sizzling almost palpably, and he didn't miss the way her gaze flickered to his lips, her tongue darting out subconsciously over her own. His heart stilled in his chest for seconds that felt like an eternity, and he didn't dare to breathe as the thought of getting to taste her lips again had his blood roaring in his ears.

But as quickly as the moment had escalated, she snapped out of it and turned away, the tension still thick in the scented air of his car but the bubble they'd found themselves in now well and truly burst. Disappointment sat heavily in his stomach, his eyes still on her, and the gripping, eager desire to kiss her slowly tapering down to something more manageable. Something more like what he'd been dealing with since they'd been properly introduced after their night together.

"Let's...uh...we should get back to the station."

She said softly, staring out of the windscreen and knotting her hands nervously in her lap. If there was one positive development he was taking away from this, it was that Detective Emma Swan wasn't nearly as unaffected by him as she liked to make him believe. And that was more than enough of a development to slightly lessen any disappointment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated S for STEAMY! ;) Not giving anything more away.

She should not still be here. How many times had David told her that Friday nights were off-limits when it came to working overtime? How many times had he lectured her about being old before her time, or married to her job, and ushered her toward the door with a weary comment about how 'a woman her age should be out enjoying herself on a Friday evening'? Too many times to count, that's how many.

And yet, here she was. Almost 8pm on a Friday, still hunched over her computer, eyes scanning the screen as she pored over transcripts from every phone-call Regina Mills had made that day. She'd been eager to get hold of the records from the minute Killian had informed her of his very clever scheme earlier in the day. And now she finally had hold of the first set of transcripts. No way was she waiting til Monday to get down to business. Not when she had the distinct feeling they'd be providing some very interesting leads in their case.

The files had been processed through Belle, but she'd long since left the station, along with everyone else except Emma...and, of course, Killian, who was still locked away in his office, writing up a report of their interview with Regina. He'd been the one to email Emma the transcribed conversations a few hours earlier, attached to an email that she'd glossed over in her haste to get started.

As Emma pulled up yet another conversation, having scrolled through a number of apparent dead-ends, her eyes were beginning to burn a little from staring at a screen for so long. Stopping suddenly, and rereading the conversation she'd just opened a little more closely, a surge of adrenaline had her pulse stuttering.

' _RM: It's me. It's about those three files-  
_ _UNKNOWN: Hello to you, too, Ms. Mills. What a pleasant surprise.  
_ _RM: Do you still have them?  
_ _UNKNOWN: Do I still have what?  
_ _RM: The files! I had the police here snooping around earlier. They have a warrant for those three files.  
_ _[INAUDIBLE]'_

Emma was on the edge of her seat, leaning in close to her screen with her heart racing, an exasperated groan of frustration passing her lips when she saw that the transcription software had apparently failed to convert half the audio file. She was left on the precipice of a huge case-breaker, so close she could almost  _taste_  it.

Shoving her chair back and stalking toward Killian's office, she breezed inside without so much as a knock on the door. Killian gave a start, seemingly surprised to see her still at the station so late.

"Swan, what are you still-"

"The audio files, the originals; I need them. I've got something, I know it. But the file was corrupted or didn't convert, so...send them to me?"

Killian stood and rounded the desk, eyeing her carefully as he folded his arms and perched on the front of his desk.

"Why are you still here? It's late. You should be-"

"Out enjoying myself like most other normal people; yeah, yeah, I've heard it a thousand times. I'd rather be catching a killer, but thanks for being so concerned about my social life. So, why don't you save the lecture and just send me the files?"

She stepped forward, chin tilted in defiance, and a glint of a challenge in her eyes. He didn't move, simply staring her down with an unreadable expression that had her itching to step back and put some distance between them. When he looked at her like that, it felt uncomfortably like he could see directly into her damn soul. The intensity in his blue eyes, as though he just  _knew_  her, had her instinct to run kicking into high gear. But she stood her ground, clenching her jaw as her hands found her hips. A demonstration of confidence and determination she hoped would have him backing off and giving her what she wanted.

"I'll send you the files. On Monday."

She gawped at him then, frustration sparking under her skin.

"I want them now."

"And I want you to go home."

She stepped closer still, almost toe-to-toe with him now, the flames of her frustration steadily billowing into anger. She couldn't quite believe he was trying to force her to abandon what could be a huge break in their case for the sake of the  _weekend_. She'd thought he had the same workaholic mentality as she did, but apparently not.

"No."

She growled, fingernails digging into her hipbones as she tried to keep her temper in check. He didn't even flinch, staring right back at her, and she would have thought he was unaffected by her proximity and barely-contained fury if it wasn't for the fact that his pupils were blown black. He was turned on by her anger. And that only sparked her temper even further.

She planned to give him what-for. She planned to launch into a tirade about how there were three women out there who didn't get  _weekends_  anymore, who didn't even get weekdays, because they were  _dead_. She planned to rant about how it was their job to work tirelessly until those women's killer was brought to justice. She planned to shove him aside and send the files to her email account herself.

But she didn't.

Instead, to the surprise of both of them, she grabbed him by the lapels of his stupidly sexy leather jacket and hauled him bodily to her, lips fusing with his in an electric kiss that stole the air from both of their lungs. She wasn't sure who moaned into the kiss, all of her thoughts a jumbled mess as he finally responded and pulled her flush against him. One of his hands found its way into her hair, tugging it free from the pin holding it up and immediately angling his head to deepen their kiss, tongue sweeping past her lips, as her hair tumbled down her back.

She could feel the evidence of exactly what she was doing to him trapped between them, and turned them so that she was the one perched on the edge of the desk. He happily obliged, never breaking the kiss but encouraging her to allow him between her denim-clad thighs with a nudge of his leg against her knee. She shifted, letting out a soft yelp against his lips when she felt his hands slide under her thighs to lift her, setting her down properly on the desk. He moved one hand then, to thumb at the dimple in her chin, and finally broke the kiss, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against hers.

But she wasn't ready to face reality and back away from him yet. She wasn't ready to walk away when she felt like her whole body was burning for him. If someone had told her a few weeks earlier that she'd be making out with someone on a desk at the station, like a horny teenager so desperate to get laid that she couldn't wait to move them to a more appropriate location, she would have laughed in their faces. Because not only would that have suggested that she'd have an inability to control herself around someone, but also that she was mixing work with pleasure. And Emma Swan did not mix work and pleasure.

Until him.

What had started out as a one-night stand with the wrong person, had turned into something she wasn't quite sure how to address. She could tell herself that he was just  _hot_  and really good in the sack and she just needed to get laid more...but she knew she'd be lying. There was something about Killian Jones that had gotten under her skin, and apparently the feeling was very much mutual...though he didn't seem particularly opposed to admitting it anyway.

"Emma…"

He whispered, and she shook her head, still holding tight to his lapels. She didn't want him to stop them. She didn't want him to make her overthink all of this. She just wanted to  _feel_. She wanted to relive the earth-shattering pleasure he'd given her during their previous night together, consequences be damned. And if he stopped them now and asked her to really think about it, she knew she'd find herself backing off and talking  _sense_  into herself. But she didn't want sense. She just wanted him.

"No...don't 'Emma' me. Just…"

She moved quickly, toeing off her boots at the same time as she made quick work of removing her shirt, leaving her sat on his borrowed desk in the silence of an empty station side-room wearing nothing but her jeans and her black lacy bra. He stared down at her and she swallowed thickly. He looked as though he wanted to devour her, and she wasn't at all opposed to the idea.

"You're a bit overdressed…"

She could hear the way her own voice cracked but she chose to ignore it, focusing instead on tugging at his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands. He placed his hands over hers.

"Emma-...hey, hey, Swan, slow down-"

"No," she replied, much too quickly, continuing to pop the buttons, "I don't want slow. I don't want gentle or sweet or  _nice_. I just want you to  _fuck me_. Now. Right here on this desk. I want you to fuck me til I forget how much you're getting under my skin and in my fucking head!"

Her voice was shrill and he stilled for long moments that had Emma holding her breath, sure he would stop what they were doing right there and then. But he didn't. Instead, he surged forward and kissed her. Hard. She responded immediately, humming her approval of his bruising kiss as she single-handedly removed her bra, tossing it aside, and he shrugged off his shirt, making quick work of sending her jeans to follow too.

"Fuck...no panties? You'll be the death of me, woman."

He groaned, finding her bare beneath the denim, and she smirked against his lips. He shucked his own pants down, his erection prominent in the tight confines of his boxer briefs, and she wasted no time in palming him through the material. He cursed under his breath and let his chin drop to his chest, watching her small hand pressing along his length, teasing him for a moment before dipping inside and freeing him. Feeling her hand wrapped around him, slow and torturous strokes with a twist of her wrist on every up-stroke, had him almost swallowing his own tongue.

After a few minutes of working him up, she let go and leaned back onto the desk, propped up by her elbows, and smirked lazily at him before sticking two fingers into her mouth and sucking on them in a blatantly erotic way, holding his gaze the whole time. He watched, wrecked, as she spread her legs further and moved her hand down her body, the two fingers she'd been sucking on now pressing with unerring accuracy against her clit and causing her to moan, head dropping back at the pleasure she was giving herself.

Killian growled then, dropping to his knees and ignoring the ache in his own groin as he settled himself at eye-level with the most intimate part of Emma. She only lifted her head and realized what he was going to do a split second before his mouth made contact with her, so a surprised yelp left her lips, quickly melting into a drawn-out moan.

He wasted no time and brought two fingers to her entrance, pressing just inside and causing her to writhe and whimper on the desk, needing more and desperate for him in any way she could get him. He didn't tease, her plea for him to 'just fuck her' ringing in his ears as he thrust two fingers inside her, mouth never leaving her clit as he laved against the little bundle of nerves almost viciously. She cried out over and over, involuntarily bucking against his mouth and hurtling toward the edge with his name caught in her throat and her fingers in his hair.

Seconds before she fell, her core beginning to flutter around his fingers, he suddenly stopped and pulled away. The wet scruff on his chin showed the evidence of his time between her thighs and if she'd had the presence of mind, she may have felt embarrassed by it. But instead she whimpered in dismay,  _almost_  letting a plea fall from her lips, but stopping short of begging. She'd been so  _close_  and the bastard knew it, judging by the smirk on his lips. She stared at him as he stood up, the fear that he'd leave her like that suddenly flaring under her skin and making her want to reach for him, tell him  _don't you dare_.

But he didn't, thankfully. Instead, he positioned himself between her legs and tugged her to the edge of the desk, hooking his arms under her knees and lining himself up. She barely had time to suck in a breath before he was surging forward and filling her to the hilt. It hadn't been all that long since he'd last been inside her, but his size still took a moment to adjust to.

Emma wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing her heels into the dimples above his ass and forcing him deeper, causing them both to gasp. He moved his hands to either side of her hips then, gripping the desk as he set a punishing pace, crowding her and making her heart race even more as she felt his breath puffing out in labored bursts against the damp skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

She leaned back onto her elbows then, his proximity burning her up, and let her gaze flicker down to where they were joined. It was the most erotic thing she'd ever witnessed - his glistening length moving in and out of her, the toned muscles of her stomach quivering every time he filled her up, and the flex of his abs controlling his measured movements. His hair was mussed from her roaming hands, and she couldn't help but marvel at how devastatingly sexy he looked as he took her hard and fast atop his desk.

The forbidden nature of their tryst, accompanied by the risk of getting caught should anyone walk into the bullpen, both added to the euphoric surges of adrenaline coursing through both of them. The blinds of the office were open and even though it was unlikely anyone would return to the station so late, it wasn't impossible, and Emma couldn't deny there was a certain thrill to taking such a risk.

Killian leaned forward suddenly, his large hands moving from the desk to grip her waist, helping him to force her down on every stroke. She squeezed her eyes shut as pleasure washed over her, feeling him deeper than she thought possible, stars popping behind her eyes.

"Open your eyes, love. Open your eyes and watch me fuck you."

His growled request sent a bolt of desire right through her and she did as he asked, all concern about getting caught flying out of her head as she opened her eyes, gasping for breath with each roll of his hips. She was close, and she prayed he wouldn't deny her this time. As her body began to tense up, toes curling and her orgasm tingling low in her belly, she realized that words were falling from her lips.

"Oh, God, don't stop, please don't stop, I'm close! Killian, I'm-...oh  _fuck_...I'm...I'm gonna come…"

With that, every nerve in her body felt like it was being set alight, pleasure zipping down her spine and making her legs shake as they tightened around him like a vice, ankles locking over the small of his back to keep him deep inside her. She was distantly aware of his voice, warning her that he was about to follow her over the edge, that he couldn't stop and that he was going to spill himself inside her if she didn't let go…

Emma startled awake, heart racing and skin damp as reality seeped back into her consciousness. She was at her own desk...fully clothed and still shaking slightly from the orgasm she'd seemingly had in her sleep while sat at her goddamn desk. The transcripts she'd been working on were open on the screen in front of her and the room was dark and silent. It had been a dream. She'd had a fucking  _sex dream_  at work, with her temporary FBI partner in the starring role.

Groaning in frustration and shame, she dropped her head back to the desk and mused over how royally fucked she was. And not in the good way.

* * *

CS

* * *

"Go on then, what'd he do this time?"

Will sighed wearily, eyeing his partner as they sat in the patrol car in the station parking lot eating their lunch the next day. Emma glanced over at him, attempting nonchalance and failing miserably. She shifted her attention back to the cheese and bacon sub in her lap, knowing that he'd read her way too easily if she looked him in the eye.

"What are you talking about?"

She replied around a mouthful of sandwich. Will rolled his eyes and placed his own sandwich down, canting his head toward the station.

"You're avoidin' 'im."

"Avoiding who?"

Another roll of his eyes and a weary sigh.

"Don't play dumb with me, Em. Mr. Federal Bureau of Indecently Attractive. Last time you made us 'ave lunch in the car was that time you were avoidin' Dave when he busted you for taking a case right after you got shot in the arm and were supposed to be at home recoverin'. You're not as subtle as you think you are. So what's he done to piss you off now?"

Emma shifted in her seat, tempted to change the subject or tell her friend in no uncertain terms to just  _drop it_. But with a sidelong glance in his direction again, she made the split second decision to actually let him in. There weren't many people she felt comfortable talking to, but Will was one of them. They'd been through alot together in their few years as partners, and she trusted him.

"I had a sex dream about him."

Will choked, clearly not expecting such a blunt confession right at the moment he'd decided to take a bite of his lunch. Coughing up the chunk of mushed bread and chicken that had lodged itself in his windpipe, face red from the shock of it, he quickly recovered from the near-death experience and turned to stare at Emma.

"'Scuse me, what?"

He said, sure he must have heard her wrong. She huffed in embarrassment, sinking down a little in her seat and wrapping her sub back up, suddenly no longer hungry and regretting her confession.

"You heard me. And I don't wanna talk about it."

Will spluttered a little, indignation on his face.

"Swan, you can't just drop a bloody bomb like that and then be all 'I don't wanna talk 'bout it'. Bloody 'ell, woman, you try'na end me?"

Emma rolled her eyes this time, folding her arms and glaring a hole into the steering wheel. Will shook his head, reaching over and squeezing her arm somewhat reassuringly.

"Sorry. Just...didn't expect that. Look, s'normal to 'ave...dreams like that an' whatnot. S'just our bodies way of lettin' off steam. Or whatever. I mean, I've 'ad sex dreams 'bout you-" her eyes snapped up to meet his and he held up his hands, "Calm down, it ain't like I wanna sleep with you or nowt. You're like me sister-...okay no, that makes it sound even weirder..."

He scratched his head, clearly flustered as he tried to explain himself, and Emma simply raised her eyebrows as he continued.

"I just mean...uh...well, when I've dreamed...that stuff...it's mostly after days when you've been doin' me head in. It's like me brain translates the frustration into...that. So maybe he's just windin' you up and it's your brain's way of try'na deal with it. It ain't a big deal..."

His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment by the time he finished rambling, but she offered him a small smile, appreciative of his fumbled efforts at reassuring her.

"He wasn't pissing me off, for once. He'd actually impressed me. But yeah...maybe you're right...maybe it's just this case getting me all…" she waved her hands around in exasperation and sighed, "I'll be glad when we catch the son of a bitch and close the case, so Killian can just  _leave_  and I can get on with my job again without all this distraction."

Will smirked and she narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

"Nowt. Just...y'know...I've never known anyone to get under yer skin like this before. Maybe there's a reason he's such a  _distraction_."

Emma punched him in the arm, somewhat lacking in enthusiasm but he winced anyway, and glared at him.

"Don't start with that bullshit, Scarlet. You were doing okay with the whole 'bestfriend advice' thing, in your own awkward kinda way, until now. Don't spoil it."

Will stared at her, his eyes softening, and she frowned.

"What are you looking at me like that for?"

"I'm your bestfriend?"

Emma rolled her eyes again, despite the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I'll demote you back down to 'work partner and occasional acquaintance' if you don't shut the fuck up. Anyway...come on, we better get back to work."

With that, she shoved her abandoned sub into the side console and hopped out of the car. Will grinned, following her lead, and as they headed across the parking lot he hooked his arm through hers, his tone chipper and teasing,

"Come on then, bestie, let's go get the bad guys!"

* * *

_CS_

* * *

The afternoon saw Emma keeping her focus on her computer and away from Killian's office, working her way through the transcribed conversations from Regina's phonecalls. She couldn't help but feel somewhat resentful of the imaginary breakthrough she'd made in her dream, before it had turned decidedly more R-Rated.

In reality, most of the conversations she was reading were simply appointments, both for business and pleasure; meetings with prospective adoptive parents and pregnant women wishing to use the company's services (and her heart still ached remembering her own stint in their shoes), punctuated with hair and nail appointments and numerous arrangements for lunch with big donors or board executives.

It was tedious to scroll through, and the software wasn't hugely reliable at converting whole files. She wondered how much Belle would hate her if she requested manual transcription. Just as she was on the verge of casually dropping by to visit Belle and put the idea out there, the latest file she'd opened caught her attention and had her blood running cold as her eyes scanned the words on the screen.

' _RM: It's me. It's about those three files-  
_ _UNKNOWN: Hello to you, too, Ms. Mills. What a pleasant surprise.  
_ _RM: Do you still have them?  
_ _UNKNOWN: Do I still have what?  
_ _RM: The files! I had the police here snooping around earlier. They have a warrant for those three files.  
_ _[INAUDIBLE]'_

Letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Emma tried to gather her thoughts and steady herself. Her dream had been lingering at the edge of her peripheries all day, but now it was replaying in vivid technicolor and she was more than a little freaked out that any part of had grown roots in reality.

Hastily taking down the file number and standing on shaking legs, Emma headed straight for Killian's office, trying to ignore the fact that her pulse was racing and her palms were sweating. She had to get a hold of herself. Killian didn't need to know that she'd dreamed up this big break up before it happened, or what had followed. And it wasn't like any other part of the dream was happening - for a start, it was mid-afternoon, not late at night, and the station was busy, not deserted. Still, she couldn't help but feel unsettled as she knocked nervously on the door.

Killian waved her in with a warm smile, but she avoided his gaze.

"Hi...I, uh….need the original file for one of Regina's phone conversations…"

She shuffled her feet and cleared her throat, lingering in the doorway and anxious to retreat as quickly as possible.

"Oh...of course. I'll have Belle email it to you. Which one?"

Hesitating for a moment, Emma finally crossed the room and handed Killian the scrap of paper on which she'd written the file number. As he took it from her, his fingers brushed hers and she yanked her arm away as though he'd burned her. Flustered, she stepped back, turning on her heel with a mumbled 'thanks' and moving quickly toward the door, attempting to remove herself from the situation before he-

"Detective Swan…"

Too late.

Stopping with her back still to him, she took a moment to school her features into something she hoped resembled calm indifference, and turned once again to face him. As she did so, she jammed her hands into her back pockets to avoid fidgeting and giving her discomfort and nervousness away too easily.

"Yeah?"

She asked, relieved that her voice sounded normal, at least. He eyed her warily, a frown creasing his brow.

"Have I done something to upset you? Again."

"What? No…"

He didn't seem convinced, and she had to admit that she probably wouldn't have believed her either. For a human lie detector, she wasn't a very good liar herself.

"You've clearly been avoiding me all day and I've found that you avoiding me tends to correlate with my ability to stick my foot in my mouth. This time, though, I honestly have no idea what I've done, so please enlighten me and allow me to apologize. I seem to have an uncanny ability to piss you off, and I'm not sure how many more times cupcakes are going to suffice."

She felt a stab of guilt at his words, realizing that he was clearly wracking his brain for what he could have said or done this time to get on her bad side, when in reality she was the one with the issues, not him. He hadn't done anything other than getting under her skin and being sinfully attractive...neither of which she could really hold him accountable for.

Swallowing thickly, she shook her head.

"You haven't done anything. I just-...wanna get on with my job. And I'm pretty sure I've got a lead, so…" she caught the slight drop of his shoulders and the flash of defeat in his eyes, and sighed, "Look, Killian...you haven't done anything. Honestly, you haven't. I'm just...dealing with some stuff and this case is weighing kinda heavy and I'm trying not to get distracted by anything because there's some motherfucker out there murdering women and ripping their hearts out and who the hell knows when he's gonna decide to do it again, so...I just really want to break this case as fast as possible..."

She knew she was ranting, excuses that weren't exactly untrue pouring from her lips despite the fact that she knew full well he was looking right through her and seeing the half-truths for exactly what they were. Thankfully, though, he let it go, simply nodding and letting her excuses fly.

"Alright...I'll have Belle email you the files."

She nodded, relief flooding her as she turned toward the door once more, her safe retreat in sight.

"And Emma?"

She stilled, halfway out of the door, and hesitantly glanced back over her shoulder at him.

"Mmm?"

"If you wish to talk...about anything that's bothering you...I'm quite a good listener. No strings, no expectations, no judgement. I know these types of cases can do a number on you, especially if you bottle it up."

She paused for a moment, mumbling a quick 'thank you', before heading back out into the comforting bustle of the bullpen. Killian stared after her, wondering if he'd be lucky enough to break the enigma that was Emma Swan, or if he'd ever get to see the person she kept hidden behind all of those mile-high walls.


	6. Chapter 6

The original file of the conversation Emma had requested didn't contain much more than what she'd already seen. The voice was male, and definitely had an accent, but there was nothing decisively incriminating about the brief exchange. Regina had been unaware that her phonecall was being recorded, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that the person she'd called had been purposefully cautious to avoid possibly incriminating himself in any way. And if anything screamed of an unsavory character, that sure as hell did.

After taking what she'd found straight back to Killian, a fiery determination in her eyes as she'd slapped the full transcript down in front of him, he’d immediately called and asked Regina to come down to the station.

She was sugary sweet with him on the phone, attempting to make herself sound compliant and willing to help their investigation in any way she could. But Emma didn't trust her, especially not with the added evidence against the woman. She was involved, or at the very least, she knew who was.

By the time Regina arrived at the station, Killian was briefing Emma on how they'd handle her. She was currently playing the overly-helpful angle, attempting to make them believe she had nothing to hide. But they knew better. She already didn't seem to like Emma, so she was more likely to irritate the woman enough, with body language and pointed questions, to make her slip up and reveal something she hadn't intended to.

“So, basically, you wanna go _Good Cop, Bad Cop_ on her? Cliché, but alright. I'm down for Bad Cop. I already can't stand the woman.”

Emma had shrugged, heading toward the interview room where Regina Mills was waiting for them. Killian grabbed her arm gently.

“I may be wrong, but I have a feeling this may be somewhat personal to you, for whatever reason... don't let her get under your skin, Swan. We want her to slip up, so pushing her is fine, but she may get defensive when we present her with the evidence. And she strikes me as the vindictive type. If she cuts too deep, don't take the bait.”

Emma scowled at him, tugging her arm out of his grasp and folding them.

“So you think if she says something mean, I’m gonna lose my cool and be unprofessional. You think I can't control my emotions? That's what you're saying?”

There was an edge to her tone, and Killian quickly shook his head.

“No. Not in the slightest. I trust you to be professional, of course I do. But...I know how women like her operate. She seems to have some kind of insight into your past, somehow, and she's willing to weaponize it for her own defence, to throw you off and knock you down when you're getting close to something or someone she wishes to protect. Believe me, Swan...I know all too well how deep the wounds of our past can go. And when people open up those wounds…”

Emma stared at him, feeling far more vulnerable than she was prepared for. He saw right down into her soul, and somehow saw the damage there without flinching. Perhaps she should have known he'd be perceptive, being a profiler and all. But it still unnerved her, and she wrapped her arms just a little bit tighter around herself, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

“I can handle myself. Can we just get in there and do this?”

She said, her tone clipped and far steadier than she felt. He studied her for a moment before nodding, and gesturing for her to go in ahead of him.

* * *

// CS //

* * *

 The interview began somewhat smoothly, straightforward identifiers stated, her job description, how she had come into contact with the victims and so on. Regina then readily gave her alibi for specific times Killian inquired about on the nights the murders had taken place, which Emma quickly noted down, Regina eyeing her coolly across the table for a moment before turning her full attention back to Killian. The session was being recorded but Emma was jotting down the information she wanted to immediately chase up once they’d finished questioning the group home director.

Once the formalities were covered for the sake of the interview record, Killian moved straight onto the more probing questions. Where the three missing files had gone; if any other files were missing; who had access to confidential information her company kept on biological parents and the children in the various group homes’ care. To her credit, Regina did seem to be _trying_ to answer the questions, seemingly as best she could without mentioning a certain phone-call to someone she obviously believed still had the files in question.

“So, you have no knowledge of anyone who would have reason to remove the files in question?”

“No, I have no idea for what reason they’ve been removed,” Emma’s bullshit radar didn’t ping, and she narrowed her eyes, reading half-truths but no lies, “I have my assistant hard at work trying to identify any further missing files, in case there are any. But I assure you, Detective, this is not the way I run my business. I like order. Files have never just _gone missing_ before. And I _will_ get to the bottom of it.”

Killian paused, levelling a steady gaze on her, without giving anything away.

“And the three victims. You never personally dealt with any of their cases?”

Regina was clearly trying to rein in her irritation at the way he was rewording the same questions, aware that he was probably trying to trip her up.

“I told you, detective, I don't know anything about any of those poor murdered women, other than what I've seen on the television.”

Regina’s expression was calm and composed again, the flash of irritation tamed, hands folded atop the metal table as she kept her gaze fixed on Killian. And just as she had the last time they'd met, she took a cursory glance in Emma’s direction and then proceeded to ignore her, unaware that the blonde was simply waiting for an opening to smugly reveal their evidence. And now she had it.

“Care to explain to us who it was that you called in relation to the missing files then?”

Emma slapped a file down, opening it and presenting the transcript of Regina’s tapped phonecall, hiding the thrill of satisfaction that surged through her when the color immediately drained from the older woman’s face as her eyes scanned the words.

With her lips pressed into a thin line, she stared at the transcript in silence, before composing herself. Lifting her chin, she stared Emma dead in the eyes.

“You had no right to record my phone calls.”

She said calmly, though a tremor of fury simmered beneath the words and her cheeks blanched. Emma held her gaze unflinchingly.

“You're hiding something, and protecting someone. You're obstructing justice, so yeah, we had the right. Guess you didn't read the warrant we gave you in full - rookie error, especially for a _businesswoman_ such as yourself. And hey, call us crazy but our priority is finding out who murdered three women in their homes, so I really don't care what you think of our methods. It got us results. So, please, do explain. Because right now, lady, you're looking at 3 to 5 on accessory charges. And I'm really not sure an orange jumpsuit will do much for your complexion.”

Regina paled further, her jaw clenching as she looked from Killian to Emma. Her self-preservation mode was kicked into high gear, Emma could tell. She'd seen that look countless times, right before someone rolled on their partner in crime.

“Fine,” Regina eventually growled, leaning back in her chair, “I’ll tell you who I called. But I don't know anything about the murders. All I know is that I had a break-in that I didn't report, because I was told not to. Files went missing. A lot of them. But as far as I’d been aware, they were all brought back, so I let it go. I only realized there were still files missing when you showed up.”

“Who did you call? Who brought the files back? And who told you not to report the break-in?”

Emma demanded. Regina stared at the transcript again, swallowing hard before lifting her hardened gaze to Emma’s.

“That would all happen to be the same person, Detective. His name is Robert Gold.”

* * *

// CS //

* * *

Robert Gold was one of the wealthiest men on the East Coast. He’d risen fast in the business world over the last five years, coming out of nowhere and swiftly dominating his competition, carving a name for himself with his ruthless and unforgiving approach. He had a hand in the dealings of most of the big businesses in the city, and if he was somehow involved in the murders of three women, Killian knew they’d have to tread carefully.

Though he’d never met the man, Killian was well aware of his reputation and influence, particularly in Boston, where he was primarily based. His name seemed to inevitably crop up time and again, yet he never got his hands dirty, so there was only ever circumstantial-at-best evidence against him. He was untouchable. And he knew it.

As soon as the interview with Regina was over, Killian escorted her out. They'd gleaned little more from the woman than Gold’s name and a grudging explanation of how she knew him - he was a chairman on their citizen’s board and a big-time benefactor, because _of_ _course_ he was - before she’d lawyered up and refused to give up anything else.

On his return from escorting their reluctant interviewee to the lobby, Killian found Emma at her desk once more, scowl on her face as she pored over the interview notes.

“Swan. May I speak with you?”

She lifted her gaze, frown still in place, and nodded, immediately following Killian towards David’s office. He knocked on the door, and David waved them in. Shutting the door firmly once Emma had entered behind him, Killian turned back to David.

“Sir, we've had somewhat of a break in the case. But as promising as that sounds, what we've found is only set to make this case an uphill battle. We’re going to need...creative tactics on this one. The usual cut-and-dry protocols aren't going to cut it.”

David narrowed his eyes, studying the man for a moment before leaning his elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of him.

“That's decidedly vague and cryptic, Jones…”

“Aye...well...we've just interviewed Ms. Mills, and she's turned over a name. One I'm more than a little familiar with. In fact, I'm sure that you yourself will have probably heard his name, like some sort of legendary ghost story that every law enforcement department on the East Coast has probably heard whispered at some point.”

“Still cryptic…”

Emma cut in, rolling her eyes and perching on the edge of David’s desk like a bored teenager, waiting for him to get to the point. He sighed, rubbing his temple briefly before finding David’s gaze once more.

“Robert Gold is involved.”

David stilled, and Emma’s eyes darted between him and Killian, waiting for some kind of explanation. When it wasn't immediately offered, the two men simply staring each other out as David processed the information, she cleared her throat, unused to being out of the loop in her own case.

“Sorry, slow to catch on here, but who the hell is Robert Gold and why are you guys acting like he's some kind of criminal Santa Claus?”

Killian chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head.

“I suppose you could call him that. He's not a man to be crossed, and from what I can gather, the majority of the criminal underworld answer to him, one way or another. He’s been tied to hundreds of cases, spanning decades, despite the fact that he only seems to have existed for five or so years. And no one has ever had enough on him to get anything to stick. If he's involved in this case...well-”

“Creative tactics, you said. What exactly do you have in mind, Special Agent?”

David was wary, Emma could tell from his tone. But she too was intrigued as to what Killian was thinking. He scratched his ear and sighed, clearly not relishing whatever idea he was formulating.

“Undercover. We need to lure him, if indeed he is the one behind this. I can guarantee it won't be him carrying out the murders, but if we somehow catch his attention, using the common factors we’ve found in all the victims so far, then perhaps we can get a solid link. And find out who is doing Gold’s dirty work in the process. Figure out why these women have found themselves on the wrong side of Gold.”

There was silence for endless seconds, Emma’s mind racing and David mulling over the pros and cons of a risky undercover operation.

“I want in. On the undercover thing.”

Emma finally said, and David’s head snapped up, shaking his head vehemently.

“No, Emma. I am not letting you put yourself-”

“You're not my dad and I don't need you getting all protective over me. This is my job, _my_ case. I have a responsibility to get justice for those women. And I know exactly what will lure him out.”

David’s jaw clenched, the idea of her putting herself in the line of fire not sitting well with him in the slightest.

“I’m listening.”

Killian said, curiosity and a slight spark of admiration in his gaze. David glared at him, unhappy that he seemed to be open to the idea of putting his best detective in harm’s way.

“Well…” Emma took a deep breath, “All our victims gave up babies at some point, and went on to have pretty cushy lifestyles. Nice homes in nice neighborhoods, with friends and good jobs and happy marriages. What if he's punishing them? For giving up a kid and still getting a good life. Maybe he sees it as unfair? And he's punishing the mother. Ripping her heart out, perhaps some kind of poetic justice in his sick little mind...so maybe someone gave him up? And he thinks he's somehow restoring a karmic balance, or something?”

Killian looked impressed, eyeing her with the slightest hint of a smile.

“You ever considered profiling, Swan?”

He said, and she felt herself flush with the casual compliment. David cleared his throat.

“And how exactly does this theory, as clever as it may be, correlate with you putting yourself in the firing line of a psychopathic killer?”

“Not necessarily a psychopa-”

“Shut it, Jones.”

David muttered and Killian did as he was told, closing his mouth and moving his gaze back to a bemused Emma.

“Well...I...uh…” she knotted her hands together and began to pace, wondering how the hell to put her jumbled thoughts into words, “I...gave up a kid when I was seventeen. And I have a pretty decent life now. So it wouldn't exactly be a huge stretch for me to fit the bill of a prospective victim…”

Heavy silence descended once more, and Emma swallowed thickly, keeping her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, unable to meet David’s eyes or find pity in Killian’s. She'd never told anyone about that sordid secret from her past. Not David, not Will. No one. She'd buried it deep down inside and tried not to think about the little boy she'd handed over, half of her heart gone with him and the other half broken into pieces she wasn't sure would ever fully mend.

“Emma…”

David said softly, suddenly on his feet and rounding his desk to embrace her. She shook her head, stepping back and crossing her arms, shoulders squared defensively.

“I'm fine. It was a long time ago. But it puts me in the unique position of being _exactly_ what this guy is looking for. And I can use that. We’ll need to create a file and get Regina to plant it, to subtly wave it under his nose - she'll work with us if she thinks she can swerve the accessory charges - and then just make up some happy, perfect world for me. Give me the kind of picture perfect life this guy hated those women for having.”

David stared at her, clearly able to see her determination and knowing that he was never going to successfully convince her not to do this. Killian stepped forward.

“We can make this work. Belle can create any documentation we need, and we’ll fine tune the details, make everything as bulletproof as we can - as _safe_ as we can - before we do this.”

David still didn't look completely convinced, but he knew he was outnumbered and that the plan, if executed carefully and cleverly, was a good one. Straightforward policework wasn't going to nail Robert Gold and whoever he had doing his dirty work. They were going to have to think outside the box, and that's exactly what this plan was made of.

“I don't want you doing this on your own.”

“I'll be out there with her.”

Killian quickly interjected, and Emma narrowed her eyes at him. Granted, she knew that part of what their unsub seemed to hone in on was a happy marriage, but she hadn't thought about those particular ramifications as her impulsive yet clever plan had formed in her mind.

“Define ‘out there with me’?”

Emma said carefully, keeping her voice neutral despite the panic surging through her. Logically, she knew Killian was a good choice of partner for this gig, professionally speaking. He was experienced, knew the ins and outs of what it would take to pull off a successful undercover mission, and he clearly understood how carefully they would have to tread with the man they were trying to lure.

But then there was the fact that she'd slept with him, and the waters were already a little muddy in regards to what they were to each other. There was a very blatant attraction, of which they were both acutely aware. But, despite Emma drawing a very clear line in the sand when it came to boundaries, she wasn't entirely convinced that she could resist the pull she felt to him if she was forced to fake being his adoring wife.

And from the way he looked at her, when she knew he thought she wasn't aware, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be the only one who would struggle.

“We’ll be partners. Fake-married partners…”

“Now, hang on a minute-”

David protested, holding up a hand, but Killian cut him off.

“I'm best equipped to have her back in the field, and you know it.”

“That's exactly what I'm worried about. Don't think I'm oblivious to the way you look at her, Jones.”

David snapped back, arms folded in such a dad-like pose that Emma rolled her eyes, despite feeling her cheeks blaze with embarrassment. Killian flushed, even the tips of his ears turning pink, and Emma didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Apparently they sucked at keeping the simmering attraction they were both fighting on the down-low.

“Enough. It'll be strictly professional so you can knock it off with the overbearing dad act. I've never had parents and I don't need them now.”

Emma quickly closed her mouth, realizing too late that she'd revealed another piece of her past that she didn't talk about. David knew she was an orphan, grew up in the system and so on. But Killian didn't. And she didn't want his pity. When she hesitantly met his gaze, she didn't find any though. Only a flash of admiration and that look she couldn't quite place; the one that burned right down to her soul and had her itching with the urge to put as much distance between them as possible.

“I want every tiny detail of this thing planned out completely before I'm letting my best detective anywhere near it, do you understand me, Jones? And I want check-ins every night, from both of you. It's going to take a hell of a lot of manpower to make it bulletproof, but I'll reassign the entire damn department to it, if that's what it takes to keep Emma safe.”

Emma sighed, arms crossed defensively across her chest as she levelled a weak glare on David.

“You’re doing the ‘dad’ thing again.”

She accused wearily and he shrugged.

“I protect my people. You know that, Emma. And you are certainly no exception. You’re practically family by this point, and trusting Jones with your wellbeing is asking an awful lot of me....”

“Jones is still in the room,” Killian grumbled in response, unfazed by the withering glare the other man shot him, “But for what it's worth...I know Emma is more than capable of holding her own - hell, I’m pretty certain she could kick my arse into next week without breaking a sweat...but you have my word, I will do everything in my power to make sure she's safe.”

Ordinarily, it would get Emma’s back up to hear any man say they'd ‘protect’ her, but she couldn't find fault in his tactful approach. He admired her strength and independence, and he wasn't shy about saying it, but he was making it very clear that he'd have her back in the field as a partner, just as she'd have his.

As apprehensive as she was about the prospect of playing the role of his adoring wife, she wasn't concerned about the safety aspect. They'd be a good team, and they'd get results, of that she was almost certain.

* * *

// CS //

* * *

It took a few days and double overtime for all the details to be ironed out, and for a suitable location to be pinned down, where the ‘happy couple’ would be moving into as soon as they’d been briefed and prepped to within an inch of their lives. Belle did an exemplary job of creating bulletproof paperwork; passports, marriage certificates, house deeds, DMV records...even wedding photos that _didn’t_ look ostensibly photoshopped. Emma was impressed by how authentic it all looked (and the convincing wedding photos maybe unnerved her just a little bit). Regina had agreed to cooperate and had upheld her side of the deal, no doubt keen on avoiding accessory charges, putting Emma and Killian’s file front and center in her client portfolios. It would grab anyone’s attention if they went snooping.

David still wasn’t happy, evidenced by the permanently-pensive expression he’d been wearing since the very idea of their current plan had been formulated. He kept asking Emma if she was _sure about all this_ and reminding her that she _could change her mind_. She knew he was hoping she would. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Which was why, just three days after they’d come up with the idea, Emma and Killian were ready to start playing house. Well, in all the practical ways they were ready, but both of them were steadfastly ignoring their shared nervousness at the looming enforced closeness of living together as fake husband and wife.

The neighborhood they were moving into was a quiet, relatively wealthy, suburban area. As soon as they’d secured the foreclosure - the real estate company that was in possession of the property more than willing to aid the investigation - removals trucks had moved in, making the empty house look like a cosy home in no time. It was all ready for Emma and Killian to move into, curious neighbors all no-doubt eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new residents.

Most of their neighbors were young professional couples or families, and even when they’d been briefed about it all, Emma had already felt like she could never possibly fit in with all that. The entire room had chuckled when she’d snarkily asked if they were moving to Wisteria Lane. But her snark was only covering up how out-of-her-depth she already felt, and as everything was finalized, she wondered what the hell had possessed her to think any of it was a good idea.

David had sent both Emma and Killian home early the night before they were due to step into their roles as Mr. & Mrs. Jones. They had a final night in their own respective spaces, before they’d be sharing a home and a responsibility to pull off their ruse. It was a daunting prospect, and it had both of them reaching for something a little stronger than coffee.

As Killian tried to focus on whatever sitcom he’d managed to find on the hotel TV, Emma was a few blocks away at her place, relaxing into a lavender bath and hoping that getting drunk on the fumes of the essential oil would settle her nervous energy.

Giving up on the sitcom, Killian reached for his phone. He fired off a text to Graham, his second-in-command who would be taking the reins and leading his team once Killian had stepped into his undercover role, ensuring he had all his bases covered for his temporary promotion to begin the next day. Graham responded immediately, reassuring Killian that he was prepared, seeming to innately understand that nerves had set in for his boss.

With his hands still restless, Killian found his thumb hovering over Emma’s number on his phone, eyes tracing over the contours of her name as he absently wondered if she was similarly apprehensive about their impending mission as he was.

She was.

Even the lavender fumes from her bath didn’t seem to be helping and she sighed in frustration, leaning her head back against the tub and watching the steam curl above the water before disappearing into the humid air of her bathroom, fogging up the mirrors and beading pleasantly on her exposed skin.

The sharp vibration of her cellphone against the sideboard next to the tub had her cursing, startled, and she quickly reached for it, half-dreading a call from David to inform her that another victim had turned up, after four days of radio silence from their escalating unsub. Seeing the caller ID, she frowned. She hadn’t expected a call from him.

“Killian? What’s wrong?”

She answered, a frown on her face as she sat bolt upright in her bathtub, poised to dive out and get back into her clothes in record time, should she need to. He chuckled softly in response, and she could almost visualize him shaking his head and scratching behind his ear.

“Nothing’s wrong, Swan. Stand down. I was just checking in.”

“Checking in?” she repeated, the tension in her shoulders starting to ebb away, “Is that FBI talk for ‘I’m on edge because I’m not used to being at home with an entire evening of nothing to do when I feel like I should be at work’? Because...yeah, I feel you.”

Killian laughed warmly then, and she knew she’d hit the nail on the head.

“You managed to get that from one sentence. I honestly think you should consider profiling, love. You’re a natural.”

Emma rolled her eyes despite the smile threatening to lift her lips, and leaned back into the warm water.

“Nah, the whole psychoanalyzing and getting into the heads of all those sick fucks out there...not really my jam. I prefer to just catch them. I don’t wanna try to _understand_ them.”

“Fair enough. And what are you doing this evening, if you’re also feeling the strain of this enforced _relaxation_ time?”

Emma paused, glancing down at her very naked self, wondering if telling him the truth was only going to sound like a come-on.

“Uh...well...I’m actually taking a bath right now…”

She bit her lip, practically able to see the flush that was no doubt coloring his cheeks now, and hear his thick swallow as he tried to come up with a measured response that wouldn’t have her hanging up on him. She had to smother a laugh when he remained silent for a few seconds.

“Apologies, lass. I’ll let you go-”

“No, it’s alright. I mean...it’s not like you can see me,” she laughed breathlessly and winced at her own awkwardness, “Uh...I figured this stupidly expensive lavender shit would chill me out or something. It’s not working. I should probably get my money back.”

She was rambling and she knew it. But he went along with it, and for that she was grateful.

“Aye, false advertising, I’d say. I attempted to watch some sitcom I’ve never heard of, but frankly, it’s terrible. I’m starting to wish this hotel room had a bathtub. Showers aren’t quite as conducive to relaxing. I’m considering room service, but I don’t fancy the idea of remortgaging my home just to afford a chicken burger.”

“You could come over,” Emma clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening in shock at the fact that she was naked in her bathtub and had just invited her soon-to-be fake-husband over, “I-I mean...not for a bath...I-I...uh...I meant that we can get takeout or something. I’ll be wearing clothes. Obviously. And yeah...we can order burgers or pizza or whatever. Cheaper than room service...and we’re both bored out of our brains sat around on our own, doing nothing all evening anyway.”

“I’d like that,” he responded softly, clearly amused by her panic-stricken rambling, “I’ll give you an hour or so? Text me your address.”

“Yeah. Alright. Bring beer.”

“Your wish is my command, Swan. See you later.”

* * *

// CS //

* * *

Killian turned up at her door one hour and four minutes later, a six-pack of beer under his arm and an easy smile on his face masking the butterflies that took flight in his stomach as soon as she opened the door.

She was barefoot, wearing yoga pants and an oversized grey New York Rangers hoodie, hair piled up into a messy bun atop her head. He tried to ignore his stuttering pulse as she greeted him uncharacteristically shyly, gesturing for him to come in. He couldn’t help but glance around and take in her home as he followed her through to the kitchen.

“I figured we could order from my favorite pizza place. They know me pretty well now, so the delivery is fast and they always throw in a few complimentary extras. And yeah, I know exactly what that says about my dietary habits.”

She shrugged, grabbing a bottle opener from a drawer and opening two of the beers he’d brought, handing one to him as she leaned against the counter. He gratefully accepted, and took a swig, far too aware of her eyes on him.

She’d done her best to taper down the flare of _want_ that had sent a shock of heat down her spine the second she’d opened the door to him. But he was wearing those jeans he’d been wearing the night they’d gone back to his hotel together (though she wasn’t about to analyze why the hell she remembered his clothing choices from that night), with a simple dark blue button-down that was open enough to tease her with an eyeful of chesthair. She didn’t need her imagination. She’d seen _everything_ he had to offer, and she’d been actively trying to forget it ever since. But when he smiled at her like that, with his hair an artful mess that her fingers _itched_ to bury themselves into, he really _wasn’t helping._

Shaking herself, and averting her eyes from watching the way his throat worked when he gulped down a mouthful of beer, Emma busied her nervous hands by peeling the label from her own beer bottle and gesturing with a cant of her head for him to follow her through to the living room.

She was wondering if inviting him over had been such a smart idea. They were about to go undercover and they both knew that their ability to make it work could be critical to solving their case, and getting justice for three innocent women. They were both hyper-aware of the attraction between them, and they’d agreed to keep things strictly professional. That was going to be more important than ever once they assumed their roles as fake husband and wife, and she didn’t want to jeopardize the entire case just because of an inability to control her baser instincts.

Steeling her resolve, Emma dropped down on the sofa and motioned for him to join her.

“What do you fancy, then?”

She asked, tucking her legs underneath her and grabbing her cellphone, ready to hit speed dial on the takeout place once he’d decided on his order. Killian choked on the beer he’d just sipped then, eyes wide as he stared at her.

“Uh...I-...”

“For dinner…”

She clarified, feeling her cheeks flush even as she tried to bite back a smirk. It was somewhat reassuring to her that she wasn’t the only one who felt all off-kilter by his presence in her apartment. Killian cleared his throat, the tips of his ears coloring with embarrassment.

“Right. Of course. Pizza is good with me. None of that pineapple nonsense though. Just good old fashioned pepperoni.”

Emma scoffed.

“Lightweight,” she muttered, as she hit speed dial, “Everyone knows that BBQ Meat Feast is the _only_ pizza option.”

He smirked at that, raising his eyebrow suggestively, tongue pressing against his cheek, and she just _knew_ he was holding back some saucy quip that would have her rolling her eyes even as heat prickled under her skin. She was thankful that someone answered the phone at that point, and she focused on keeping her voice steady as she gave their orders.

Once she’d hung up, and while they waited for their food to arrive, Emma turned to conversation back to safer topics. Primarily, work. Because getting into the whole personal side of things, and sharing some kind of heart-to-heart with him the night before she took up the role of his fake adoring wife...well, that would just be too much.

They went over all the little details they’d been briefed with multiple times over the last few days, repeated all the “facts” about themselves and their “marriage” that they’d had to memorize for when those nosy neighbors inevitably wanted to ‘get to know them’. _How did we meet? How did you propose? How long have we been married? Where did we go on honeymoon?_ They had to be on the same page for all the nuanced detail, and they quizzed each other as they waited for the pizza guy to show up.

“Where did you take me on our first date?”

She asked, awaiting his pre-penned answer. He placed his beer down on the coffee table and turned to face her.

“Pizza at your place. I was helping you study for your biochem final and it wasn’t even a date. Until it was. We had beer and we ruined two pages of your notes when I knocked the bottle over as I leaned in to kiss you.”

The air backed up in Emma’s lungs as she stared at him, his answer hanging between them and tension settling thick and heavy. He was closer than he had been before, as they gravitated toward each other, his eyes hooded with desire and hers locked on his lips.

“That...wasn’t what we rehearsed…” she whispered, her pulse stuttering madly as she unconsciously leaned closer.

“No, but I think it suits us better, don’t you agree?”

He sounded as wrecked as she felt, and even though every single rational braincell she possessed was screaming at her _not to do this_ , to employ that self-control she’d been clinging to since the first day she’d found out who he was, her body was betraying her. With her eyes fluttering closed, she gave into the delicious anticipation of his lips finding hers ( _finally_ ). She could feel his closeness, even with her eyes closed, and it was a heady feeling when she lost herself to it. He smelled so damn good, and she’d dreamed about the taste of his kiss more times than she’d ever admit since their night together.

With him leaning in close, his fingers tentatively reaching to brush her cheek in the moments before his lips met hers...the sudden, jarring sound of her doorbell had her jerking away from him and breaking the moment.

Jumping up on shaky legs, Emma mumbled under her breath and bolted toward the hallway. Taking a moment to compose herself away from his intense gaze, she ran a hand over her face and tried to remember how to breathe. She’d never had anyone get so well and truly under her skin before, and she knew she was treading into dangerous territory. She didn’t _do_ feelings or relationships or trust. And yet here she was, about to dive headfirst into a fake marriage with someone who she was having a seriously hard time controlling herself around.

Finally answering the door and tipping the guy well (for saving her from herself, she supposed), Emma returned to the living room and steadfastly avoided eye contact with Killian. She could feel his gaze on her, but she tried to forget that mere moments ago she’d been about to make out with him on her couch.

“We got fortune cookies and chicken wings free this time. Not bad.”

She said, digging through the paper bag and trying her best to sound casual, even though her heart was still racing. Killian reached forward and took on of the fortune cookies she’d dropped onto the table, opening it and pulling out the slip of paper inside. He seemed to be taking her lead and ignoring the fact that he’d been about to kiss her just a few minutes earlier. And for that, she was grateful, relieved he wasn’t going to try and _talk about it_.

“An unexpected relationship will become permanent...”

He read, quirking an eyebrow at the fortune and then looking to Emma as she finally met his eyes. She swallowed thickly and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I once had one that said “an old love will come back to you” but that’s about as likely as pigs sprouting wings.”

She scoffed, and pushed the pizza box across the coffee table toward him. Killian eyed her for a moment, before seemingly deciding to keep whatever he’d been about to say to himself, and instead grabbing a slice of pizza.

The tension subsided as they ate, Emma choosing to remain cross-legged on the floor and Killian giving her the space she was silently requesting, remaining on the sofa. The silence between them became more comfortable, and Emma turned on the TV to provide some background noise, which turned into them jokingly commentating some obscure gameshow. They polished off the pizzas with ease, and by the time they’d finished watching and laughing over the TV show, Emma was stifling a yawn. Perhaps the lavender bath had eventually helped.

“I should head back and get an early night, love. Looks like you’re ready to call it a night too. I’ll choose not to take your yawning as a reflection on my company.”

He chuckled, helping Emma to dispose of the empty beer bottles and pizza boxes. She smiled at him sheepishly, her eyes hazy with tiredness, and he grabbed his jacket. She followed him to the door.

“Thanks for...coming over. I had fun.”

“Aye, me too. Get a good night’s sleep, Swan. It’s going to be a challenging few weeks.”

With her thoughts sobering as she remembered what lay ahead of them, Emma nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as he stepped out of her front door. Turning, he paused, before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. Her breath caught at the brief closeness, and she looked up to meet his serious gaze.

“We’ll be fine, and we’ll get results, of that I’m sure. But anyway. Thank you for a lovely evening. Goodnight, darling.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for you patience. Getting this chapter finished has been an absolute bitch of a task. I’d like to thank those few little gems who’ve messaged me about this fic on Tumblr, asking after an update on the…well, update. Please know that I LOVE getting any and all messages about my fics, and I hugely appreciate knowing that people are still invested, even with my slow updating schedule!
> 
> Also thanks to Irene and Marta for being my biggest cheerleaders and enablers with this fic. And I had to throw a subtle little dedication to Laura into this chapter (did you spot it), as an homage to Tripping Over the Blue Line, which is a fic that has really kept me going over the last few months.
> 
> All feedback is so very gratefully appreciated. And again, thank you for your patience!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me despite my slow updating. I very much appreciate it. And thank you to all you wonderful babes who take the time to review too. You make my heart sing. Muchos gracias to the vanilla to my coke, Irene, who has, as always, been my cheerleader throughout the writing of this chapter.

 

The first day was a bit of a blur. Emma and Killian had met at the station early, where David and Will, along with Killian’s team, were waiting for them. They were debriefed for what felt like the hundredth time, and the GPS and recording devices in their inconspicuous SUV were checked and double checked, at the request of a clearly-anxious David.

“You might need these.”

Will called out, following closely behind Emma as she and Killian made their way out to the parking lot. She turned and looked at the small jewelry box Will was holding out, a smirk on his lips, and rolled her eyes before snatching the box from him.

“You’re gonna be insufferable this entire case, aren’t you?”

She muttered under her breath, shooting him a withering glare.

“Well, it’s not everyday your _best friend_ gets fake married.”

“Still not letting that best friend thing go, huh?”

She suppressed a chuckle, not wanting him to know that despite how much he irritated her sometimes, she still found him annoyingly endearing. Opening the little box and ignoring the way her heart stuttered in her chest at the sight of the three rings nestled inside, Emma tugged the largest of the rings free and held it out to Killian, hoping the heat on her cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

He stared at it blankly for a moment before gently taking it from her. Clearing his throat, he quickly slipped it on his finger and Emma suppressed a smile. He was purposefully not making it into _something_ , and she appreciated that, pulling her own rings out of the box and slipping them on.

Belle appeared then, laptop in-hand, and turned the screen to face them. It was split into four boxes, each with an image of a room and an audio wave, all currently flat lines.

“So, the living room, kitchen, bedroom and front hallway are all hooked up with tiny security cameras and microphones. They’re well-hidden, and there’ll be someone monitoring them twenty-four-seven so if anything’s amiss, you’ll be alerted via text.”

Emma frowned, folding her arms.

“Which bedroom? Why not both?”

“Both?”

It was Belle’s turn to look confused, and a sinking feeling settled in Emma’s stomach as Graham approached them, having heard the exchange. He was manning the fort as unit chief while Killian was undercover, and he was taking the task very seriously, which was somewhat comforting for both Emma and Killian.

“You’ll be sharing a bedroom, Detective Swan,” he said matter-of-factly, “We believe the unsub observed his victims prior to the attacks, and we have no reason to think he’ll deviate from his routine at this point. If he observes you and Killian sleeping in different beds, it’ll only rouse suspicion or create the impression of an unhappy marriage. And that could well cause him to move on to a different victim.”

Emma knew that what he was saying made perfect sense, but she couldn’t help the way her pulse was stuttering with dread at the idea of sharing a bed with Killian again, regardless of the reason. It was one thing to have sex, but to actually sleep beside someone...that was a whole new level of intimacy and required a vulnerability that terrified Emma in every way. But while a war was raging in her head, she managed to feign nonchalance and simply shrugged.

Killian was eyeing her warily and she could sense Will was desperately holding back comments that would no doubt cause her to elbow him in the ribs. Thankfully, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut as she levelled a glare on him, and instead nodded toward the car that was waiting for them.

“Yer carriage awaits, Swan. Off you go. Enjoy married life! Oh, wait, I forgot to give you something. Wait here.”

He scurried over to his own car and retrieved a grocery bag, practically bouncing back over and handing it to her with a shit-eating grin on his face. She scowled at him, suspicious and took the bag, peering inside.

A carrier of six bottles of beer and a box of condoms were apparently his parting gift to her. This time, she did elbow him in the ribs.

* * *

**_CS_ **

* * *

Once they arrived at their new residence, Killian pulling the SUV into the driveway and killing the engine, he looked up at the house and sighed. They didn’t have a set time for this mission, and they could end up living as fake husband and wife for months, potentially. It would all depend on how long it took to lure their unsub out and catch his attention, and they were all hoping it wouldn’t take too long, keen to put the son-of-a-bitch behind bars where he belonged. The files were planted at the group home thanks to Regina’s cooperation, everything was in place, and now it was simply a case of putting on a convincing enough show as a loving couple and playing the waiting game.

“That was a hell of a sigh,” Emma commented, raising an eyebrow, “Not looking forward to married life in our cute little suburban white picket fenced house?”

There was heavy sarcasm in her tone, and Killian knew all too well that she was using it to cover her own trepidations. He’d seen the uncertainty and fear flash in her eyes numerous times that morning already. He may have only known her a short time, but she was an open book to him, and not just because of his profession. There was a connection between them, no matter how determined she seemed to fight it, and though he’d only been afforded glimpses into her story, and the difficult past that had shaped her. He felt that, on some level, he instinctively just _knew_ her.

He’d never say such a thing out loud, of course. She was easily spooked, that much was obvious. She hadn’t wanted to stick around and spend the night with him the first time around, and now she was going to be in a situation in which sleeping with him (in the non-biblical sense) was a part of the deal. And apparently a part of the deal that she hadn’t initially counted on.

He was going to do his best to make things as easy and comfortable as possible, but he could sense her wariness around him at the best of times. And now they’d have to add enforced closeness to their working relationship. But they’d both signed up for it, and it was for the greater good, so they’d have to make the best of the situation.

Forcing a smile, he chuckled humorlessly.

“It’ll be an honor to be your fake husband, Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes and climbed out of the car, detouring to the trunk to grab their bags. As she was slinging one over her shoulder, a voice made her jump.

“Hey, new neighbor! We were wondering when you guys would arrive! We saw the trucks moving you in; welcome to the neighborhood! I’m Aurora Andreou, and this is my husband, Phillip.”

Emma tried not to wince at Aurora‘s overly peppy tone, and managed to force a convincing fake smile and awkward wave as Killian appeared, much to her relief. He slipped an arm around her waist, and she reminded herself not to stiffen at the casually intimate gesture, while he gave the neighbors a cheery grin and a wave of his own.

“Nice to meet you both. I’m Killian Jones, and this is my wife, Emma.”

He didn’t offer anything more and Emma stifled a laugh at the expectant look on Aurora’s face. There were many reasons she felt like she’d never possibly fit in with the people they now had as neighbors, and one of the main ones was the fact that they seemed so intent on knowing _everything_ about those living around them. They hadn’t even stepped foot into their new house yet, and already one perfectly-polished couple were expecting their life stories.

Emma was intensely private and wasn’t used to sharing pieces of herself, nevermind _oversharing_ , especially to strangers. She’d spent her entire life alone, and had only really formed two close relationships that hadn’t backfired spectacularly, with David and Will. She didn’t let people in without a fight, and she certainly didn’t bare her soul to people she’d only just met.

But she was playing a role now. She wasn’t orphaned, broken, dysfunctional Emma, the homicide detective now. She was happily married, new homeowner Emma, the social worker. And she had to try and force herself into that mindset, despite feeling completely lost in her new identity.

Clearing her throat, she nodded toward their neighbor’s house.

“Uh...that’s a very nice...manicured lawn you have there.”

She called, hoping that would pass as a normal compliment in the suburbs. Judging by the way Phillip’s face lit up, she’d passed with flying colors.

“Isn’t it just! Our gardener is a magician. I have a little bit of a green thumb myself, but I leave the artistry out front to the professional. You guys should come over for dinner one evening, we’d love to tell you all about the area and make you feel welcome.”

Killian’s whispered _“bloody hell”_ under his breath had Emma desperately trying not to crack up, but he kept a bright smile on his face and nodded.

“Aye, that sounds wonderful. Once we’ve settled in, we’ll happily take you up on that offer,” both Phillip and Aurora beamed at them as Killian canted his head back toward their new home, “We best get unloading, but it was wonderful to meet you both.”

As the overly-enthusiastic neighbors disappeared back into their house, and Emma and Killian finally made it inside theirs, Killian shut the front door with a heavy thud...and Emma immediately burst into fits of laughter.

“Christ, Jones, I almost lost it when he said they had a gardener. And you just landed us with a dinner invitation already!”

Her laughter was infectious and Killian couldn’t help the amusement bubbling in his chest as he watched her doubled over.

“And I almost lost it when you complimented their _lawn_ , Swan? How much Real Housewives have you been watching as homework this week?”

After a solid three minutes of laughing until their sides hurt, the pair finally managed to compose themselves. Emma wiped her eyes with the back of her shirt sleeve and shook her head.

“I haven’t laughed that hard in way too long.”

Killian grinned and quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, that seems like a positive start to our partnership, love. I’ll admit, I never imagined I’d be in fits of laughter at any point during this mission, but it’s a welcome surprise.”

Emma smiled somewhat shyly at him then, throwing in an eye roll to alleviate the sudden flutter of nerves that had quickened her pulse. The way Killian looked at her, as though he _really_ saw her, always seemed to have that immediate effect. It had activated her fight or flight response (or more accurately, her flight response) on previous occasions, but the instinct to shut him out and back away was becoming less pronounced the more time she spent in his presence. And _that_ was what truly scared her.

Quickly turning and gathering herself, Emma dropped her bag on the chair beside the front door and finally took in her surroundings. The house was a beautiful Colonial style family home. Hardwood floors, a big galleried hallway with an impressive staircase set off to the left, and open-plan arches leading through to a generously-sized living room.

Emma gave a low whistle as she walked through the tastefully decorated living room to the dining area, which in turn led to the kitchen, a large family-style affair with white panelling and quartzite counters, a central island for all the cooking she _didn’t_ plan to be doing, and another dining area.

Large French windows overlooked a simple deck, connected to the house via a mudroom, and edged with a well-kept, tree-lined lawn. As she wandered further, raising her eyebrows as she came upon another living room, muttering about the ridiculousness of needing _two_ of everything, Killian seemed to be doing his own checks, testing the soundness of the windows and doors and inspecting locks.

Emma chuckled and shook her head at his down-to-business approach. Perhaps he was used to extravagant houses like this, but she sure as hell wasn’t. Most of the foster homes she’d grown up in had been conservatively sized and packed with as many kids as a foster family was allowed. The kids were their paychecks, so their comfort was an afterthought. She’d often ended up sharing a bedroom with half a dozen other kids, and on occasion she didn’t even have a proper bed to call her own.

So to be handed a beautiful, furnished family home, the type she’d never even dreamed she’d step foot in, nevermind live in, was a jarring experience. She was well aware that it was temporary, and that the whole reason they were there was because they had a job to do, but she still couldn’t help but wander around her new “home” in a state of slightly stunned awe.

Grabbing her bag again, she called out to Killian that she was going to unpack her stuff, and ventured up the stairs. A large gallery landing connected to all the second floor rooms, and Emma picked one at random to explore. She had no idea where their bedroom was located, but she was eager to explore and find out...even if the thought of it being _their_ bedroom still made her pulse fly into a mild state of panic.

The room she walked into was a small study, complete with a contemporary wooden desk in the center of the room and bookshelves in a matching wood finish lining one wall. Other than that and a comfy chair in one corner and an oversized rug covering most of the floor, it was a minimalist room. Emma shut the door behind her as she ventured to the next room.

Definitely their bedroom, she mused, as she wandered into a large bedroom with its own open living room area, two walk-in closets (because sure, why wouldn’t they need an entire room each to store clothes) and a spacious ensuite bathroom attached. She found herself shaking her head in disbelief as she stuck her head into the ensuite to inspect the goods. A huge floor-to-ceiling glass shower and a freestanding soaking bathtub bookended the room, with a long vanity and mirror taking up most of one wall. Emma was pretty sure most of her own apartment could comfortably fit inside the master bedroom and ensuite alone.

“Did you know we have a home gym in the basement?”

Emma almost jumped out of her skin when Killian’s voice suddenly came from behind her, and her hand immediately went to her heart.

“Holy shitting motherfucker. Can you yodel or something next time?”

Killian chuckled and scratched his ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Having fun exploring?”

“Yeah, I feel like a kid in IKEA. This place is insane. There are two living rooms downstairs and one here. Why do we even need a living room in the bedroom? And why do we need two entire rooms as closets? And we have a gym? Like an actual functioning one or is it just a treadmill in a corner? Because if you’re classing a treadmill as a home gym, then I’ve got one of those too, so touché rich people.”

Killian laughed again, shaking his head at her rambling and finally dropping the bag he was carrying onto the bed.

“Actual gym. Two of everything, of course,” he smirked at her eye roll, “All the more reason for us to order pizza tonight.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh as she dropped down gracelessly onto one of the sofas.

“You know that just because there’s a gym in the house, it doesn’t magically do all the work for you while you eat your own body weight in pizza.”

“So we’re cooking tonight?”  
  
“Hell no. We’re ordering pizza.”

* * *

**_CS_ **

* * *

After unpacking the few essential belongings they'd brought with them, and finishing their exploration of their new living arrangements, Emma decided it was probably about time to check in with David. He answered the phone on the second ring, and she had the distinct feeling he'd been restlessly checking his phone ever since they drove away from the station that morning.

“Just checking in, _dad_ ,” she joked, “We’re unpacked and we've met some of the neighbors already. They seem very...suburban.”

“By which you mean pushy and overly friendly to disguise being nosy?” She made a sound of agreement at his assessment and he continued, “And is everything alright in the house?”

Emma rolled her eyes and bit back a sassy and sarcastic comment about how terribly unsafe she felt in one of the safest neighborhoods in Boston, but she held her tongue. She knew he cared about her like family, and she'd never had that before, so her instinctive reaction was to scoff at it and insist she could take care of herself. But this time she didn't.

“Killian’s done a sweep and checked all the doors and windows are secure. Everything looks good. I’ll never understand why rich people need two or more of every room though. Did you know our _bedroom_ has its own living room? What's that about?”

David was silent for a moment before he gave a short laugh. She could envision him shaking his head at her and smiled at the mental image.

“I really would rather not think about your sleeping arrangements, Emma. I pushed for separate rooms, which I know you would've been more comfortable with. But the FBI laid out pretty clearly why that could jeopardize the ruse.”

“It’s alright,” Emma quickly interjected, “I can handle it. It's not like I haven't shared a bed before. It's not a big deal.”

David mumbled something she didn't quite catch before clearing his throat and asking her if they had food in the house. She informed him of their plan to order pizza and he tsk’d at her terrible dietary habits, as he usually did. She defended her choices and made it known that pizza had been Killian’s idea.

After another ten minutes or so of idle chat, Emma knew he was probably just keeping her on the phone for his own peace of mind, and she let him have that much, until Killian appeared in the kitchen doorway, mouthing to her that he was wasting away from malnutrition. She rolled her eyes at him and drew the conversation with David to a close. He reluctantly acquiesced and they hung up, Emma tossing the phone to Killian so he could call and place their order.

It didn’t take all that long for the food to arrive, and they opted to set up camp in the second living room, so they didn’t feel like they were being watched by whoever was manning the cameras back at the station. Emma didn’t really fancy the idea of David or Graham or even Will, sat there awkwardly watching them eat pizza.

She wondered if the presence of the cameras and microphones would be something they’d both remain acutely aware of or if the feeling of being on some screwed-up reality TV show would fade the longer they spent living there. And while part of her hoped for the latter, she also didn’t relish the idea of spending a significant amount of time wearing their fake identities. She was here to do a job, after all. And if they had to spend longer undercover, it meant their killer was still out there longer too.

“I’ll grab plates.”

Killian threw over his shoulder, as he headed for the kitchen.

“You eat takeout on plates? Do you use a knife and fork to eat pizza too?”

She called after him, teasingly. When he reappeared, he was carrying two plates and two beers, and she hummed in thanks as he handed one of the bottles to her.

“My brother used to eat pizza with cutlery,” he chuckled, a faraway look in his eyes and a small, sad smile on his lips as he dropped down onto the sofa next to her, “I’d always tease him mercilessly for it.”

Emma chewed on her bottom lip, studying him for a moment as she tried to decide how to reply to something that was decidedly a personal topic.

“Your brother still live in England?”

She finally asked as she popped the top off her beer and took a swig. Killian shifted on the sofa and leaned forward to grab a slice of pizza from the box, placing it on his plate before answering her.

“No...he passed a few years back,” he saw Emma’s eyes widen in horror and gave her a soft smile, “It’s alright, love. He did live back in England before he died. His passing was one of the reasons I moved to the States for good. He and I were...well, we had our differences, but we were the only family each other had. And I did love the self-righteous bastard. He always thought he knew what was best for me, and I suppose he did, a lot of the time, because he’d practically raised me since I was a lad.”

Emma was watching him intently, her pizza seemingly forgotten. He nodded toward the box.

“You going to eat any of that, Swan?”

She gave a start as she realized she’d been so intent on listening to him that she hadn’t even grabbed her first slice yet. Ducking her head, embarrassed, she grabbed a slice and sat back onto the sofa, taking a bite before she turned the topic back to him.

“You didn’t have parents, then?”

She asked carefully, trying not to sound too interested in his reply. He already knew she grew up in the system and she felt like she was at a distinct disadvantage with how little she knew about him.

“Our mother died when I was four years old, and our father decided that having two sons to take care of was just too much like hard work. He left when I was nine, and Liam, my brother, was fourteen. Just...disappeared in the middle of the night with naught more than a note on the kitchen table that said “Sorry”. I’ve not seen or heard from him since, and I have no wish to do so, frankly.”

Emma stared at him, unused to being handed such weighty and personal confessions and having no idea what she could possibly respond with.

“I’m sorry…” she said softly, immediately cringing at how lame it sounded.

“It’s quite alright, love. It’s actually nice to talk about it with someone, to be honest. I don’t talk about my past much.”

“Yeah, me either,” Emma quickly agreed, shaking her head and taking a big gulp of beer before averting her eyes down to the bottle, “I was uh...my parents left me at the side of a highway with nothing but a baby blanket with my name on it. They didn’t even give a shit enough to abandon me at a hospital or something. Just tossed me to the side of the road like trash.”

She swallowed the bitterness forming a lump in her throat, scowling as she picked at the label on her beer.

“Well they were idiots, Swan. Just as my father was. I was fortunate enough that my brother stepped up and kept us under the radar well enough that the authorities didn’t find out we were parentless until Liam was already 18 and legally able to be my guardian.”

Emma smiled ruefully.

“Yeah, your brother did you a solid there. I don’t know what it’s like in England, but here, the system sucks. I was with a family for three years when I was a baby, but then they had their own kid and they didn’t need me anymore. So back into the system I went. I was bounced around dozens of foster homes after that, most of which I ran away from multiple times, and I lived on the streets for a bit when I was ten. It was better than dealing with the abusive fucks who just saw foster kids as meal tickets,” Emma shook her head, trying to clear the unwelcome memories of her childhood, “It can’t have been easy though, for you and your brother. He must have loved you a lot to step up like that.”

It was Killian’s turn to avert his gaze. Listening to her talk about her childhood had pulled at his heart, and he’d wanted nothing more than to close the space between them on the sofa and pull her into his arms. But he didn’t think that course of action would have been welcomed, so he held back.

“Aye. He loved me fiercely, and I him. He sacrificed a lot in order to keep us together, and I took a lot of that for granted. I was fortunate that he had his head screwed on from an early age. I was a bit of a loose cannon in my early teens. Must’ve driven Liam mad. So, he was more surprised than anyone when I announced that I was following him into the Navy. I suppose it was _my_ way of keeping our family together, at that point, even if I didn’t fully realize it.”

Emma was listening intently again, elbow leaned against the back of the sofa, hand cradling her chin and her body turned toward him. The pizza had been going cold for awhile, but neither of them really cared.

“It must have been nice to have someone you just _knew_ loved you no matter what.”

She said quietly, a far-away longing in her eyes that made him pause. He was well aware that she rarely let people in, and he could easily tell when her guard was up; her shoulders set, and her gaze suspicious and wary. But right now, those walls she kept around her had fallen a little, and he was seeing the side of her that she kept hidden from the world behind her tough exterior of red leather and sarcasm.

“You’ve never had that? I’d say Dave cares for you deeply. And Will.”

Emma frowned, nodding thoughtfully.

“Yeah, but that’s...different, I guess. They’re like family, but they’re not. If that makes any sense,” she sighed in frustration, struggling to articulate her thoughts, “I’ve never had _real_ family. I don’t know where I came from or if I look like one of my parents, or if I have a brother or sister somewhere in the world. Sometimes it just feels like I’ve never belonged anywhere. I’ve made a life for myself in Boston, and I love my job and that I’m finally in a good place now. But I think it must be nice to feel connected to someone that understands you and really _knows_ you...and still loves you anyway.”

A heavy silence settled between them as they both digested Emma’s words. The conversation had suddenly become very deep, and yet for once, Emma didn’t feel the urge to change the subject and back away. It felt liberating to talk to someone about thoughts she usually buried deep down.

Finally, Killian spoke, his voice tentative and unsure.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question rattled her, her pulse thundering loudly in her ears for a moment and her gaze darting up to meet his. He was watching her with such an open and earnest expression that she found herself swallowing thickly.

“No, I…” she paused, long enough to take a fortifying drink, “That’s a lie. I have. Once. But it wasn’t...he broke my heart. He never loved me, and he screwed me over, because I was a naive asshole and believed every damn word that came out of his lying mouth.”

She threw back the last of her beer and reached forward to place the empty bottle down on the coffee table with shaking hands. She’d never told anyone about Neal, not even David or Will. He was just a sore subject that she’d locked away and never brought up again since he’d walked out of her life.

“Then he was an idiot too.”

Killian said, and she could hear the gentle note of indignant anger in his tone, making her look up at him in surprise. He was looking right back at her, the same sincere expression on his face that he’d had before. It made her want to tell him everything, and she _wanted_ that to scare her. It always had before. Her hands were still trembling, so she knotted them together, debating about whether to go and grab another bottle of beer just so she had something to occupy her nervous hands.

“He set me up to take the hit for a crime he’d committed. I went to prison” when Killian’s eyebrows shot up, Emma felt her cheeks grow hot with shame, “I was only just seventeen, but I’d been stealing candy bars and chips from K-Marts since I was a little kid, seeing as some foster homes barely fed us or withheld food as punishment. And that yellow bug of mine...I stole that when I was sixteen. Probably shouldn’t admit to that now. But anyway...I got eleven months and less than a month in, I found out I was pregnant.”

“Christ, Emma…”

Killian whispered, his heart aching for her, the lost girl in front of him who’d never known what love was supposed to be. Her walls and her wariness all made sense, given how badly she’d been burned in the past. And he found himself wanting five minutes alone in a room with everyone who had ever hurt her.

“I couldn’t keep the kid. Obviously,” Emma continued, her gaze distant, “I couldn’t even feed myself or keep a roof over my own head, nevermind provide for a kid. I wanted him to have his best chance, and that wasn’t with me...so I gave him up. All I could do was hope that he’d have a better life than I’d had, and that he’d be adopted quickly. I never even got to hold him. I still think about him all the time though; he’ll be ten now. And I wonder if he looks like me at all. If he has my chin or my eyes. If he’s stubborn like me or likes cinnamon with his hot chocolate. It’s stupid, I know...”

“It’s not stupid,” Killian said firmly, suddenly closer than he had been before, “It’s not stupid at all. You loved him, and you did the hardest thing anyone can do for someone they love. You let him go. If he’s anything like you, he’ll be a strong, smart, brave lad.”

Hot tears slipped from the corners of Emma’s eyes and she blinked quickly, sniffling a nervous laugh with a shake of her head. Killian instinctively reached out and cupped her face with both hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs and pausing when she didn’t immediately pull away from him.

Instead, she stared at him, her breath caught in her throat at the sudden closeness. Her heart was pounding, but her eyelashes fluttered, gaze dropping momentarily to his lips and her mouth suddenly dry.

“Emma…”

He murmured, a husky note of warning to his voice that had a shiver shooting up her spine. She knew full well that she should back off. They weren’t even twenty-four hours into their undercover job and already they were towing a line she was well aware could compromise the entire thing.

She’d lay in her bed the night before, after he’d left her apartment, and promised herself she wouldn’t let this exact situation occur. And she hadn’t even lasted a day. Because here she was, willingly walking into it and her head and heart had no intention of backing off, despite her head screaming at her that this was a _bad_ idea.

He seemed to be waiting for her to make a move, unwilling to push her and take something he wasn’t completely sure she wanted. He’d witnessed how jittery she could be, had experienced the icy shut-out from her after their one-nighter last time, and he wouldn’t take advantage by pressing forward and making the decision for her.

“Fuck, just kiss me already.”

She whispered, closing the space between them and pressing her lips firmly to his. He reacted straight away, one hand sliding into her hair and holding her gently, while the other remained on her cheek. She touched her tongue to his lips and he immediately opened for her, his tongue eagerly meeting hers and his answering groan causing heat to pool low in her belly, igniting memories of the last time he’d made those noises for her.

Her heart was pounding so fast it was making her dizzy, and she tried to deepen the kiss further, but he held her off, slowing it down and driving her crazy. But no matter what tricks she tried to get him to pick up the pace and indulge her need for a dirty and desperate make-out, he wouldn’t give in. His lips were slow and gentle, kissing her deeply and thoroughly, no rush to his movements.

It unnerved her a little, because she wasn’t used to a man taking so much care with her, holding her and kissing her like she was made of something precious. Like she mattered on a level that was so much more than physical.

“Killian…”

She mumbled into his kiss, able to hear the desperation in her own voice as she pleaded with him, despite not really knowing what she was asking for.

He pressed a few more quick kisses to her lips, one hand still in her hair and the other now thumbing the dimple in her chin, before reluctantly pulling back and resting his forehead against hers, his breath coming out in harsh pants.

“Bloody hell…”

“You were holding back on me. I know how you kiss.”

She accused, voice still barely above a whisper, and he finally opened his eyes, letting go of her and leaning back a little to properly meet her gaze.

“I won’t take advantage of you, Emma.”

She frowned, frustration swirling in her gut as she stared at him, lips kiss-bruised and her heart still racing, her body so keyed-up it felt like prickles of electricity were dancing under her skin.

“How is it taking advantage if I kissed you first? Don’t patronize me-”

“Bloody hell, I’m not patronizing you. I just...you opened up to me about your past, you let yourself be vulnerable even though I’m well aware that’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have-...I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have told you all that shit. We’re here to do a job and this,” she gestured between them, “could royally screw everything up. And now you’re gonna look at me like...like you’re looking at me right now. I don’t want your pity, so spare me.”

She stood up abruptly, gathering the forgotten pizza box and the empty beer bottles with shaking hands and heading for the kitchen. Killian sighed in exasperation, scrubbing a hand over his face and hating the fact that he could practically see her walls going back up. One step forward, two steps back.

“I don’t pity you. I admire you.”

He called after her, a heavy feeling sitting in his chest, but she didn’t turn back. He sat there on the sofa, waiting for her to return, knowing that following her through to the kitchen would only set her on the defensive and likely lead to raised voices and more frustration. So he waited.

She didn’t come back. Instead, he heard her padding upstairs, and then silence. With a growl of frustration, he leaned back on the sofa, scrubbing both hands over his face this time. She was infuriating, but he understood her better now. She’d known more pain and heartache in a few short decades than most people did in a lifetime, and shutting people out was her way of coping. A defense mechanism. He’d managed to find a way under her armor, and he’d gotten under her skin, as she’d previously admitted.

But she’d mistaken his desire not to take advantage of her in a vulnerable state as something negative. She saw pity when there was none. And she’d pushed him out again in response to that.

Taking his time switching off all the lights downstairs, Killian eventually headed upstairs, hoping he’d given Emma enough time by herself that his presence wouldn’t feel oppressive. The lights in their room were off, and he did consider retreating to one of the guest bedrooms, unsure of whether climbing into bed next to her after the way their night had ended would be such a good idea.

But he glanced up in the direction of the tiny camera nestled somewhere on the bookshelf facing their bed and sighed, shaking his head and remembering what Graham had said. He went to the bathroom and changed quickly into his dark grey sleep pants, discarding his clothes into the laundry basket and taking his time brushing his teeth.

When he climbed into bed, Emma was lying on her side, facing away from him, and he couldn’t tell whether or not she was already sleeping.

“Goodnight, Swan.”

He said softly, just in case she was struggling to sleep the way he knew he no doubt would. There was no response.

* * *

**_CS_ **

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting interesting now! More with the actual case next chapter too. This one was mostly getting them situated in their new undercover life! And there'll be more from their delightful neighbors too. Ten points if you got the obscure British royal family reference with their last name.
> 
> (Fun fact: Disney's Prince Phillip was named after Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh. His full name, prior to becoming Prince Consort, was formerly Philippos Andreou of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderberg-Glücksburg, Prince of Greece and Denmark.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This. Is. Angst.  
> (Please read in a 'This Is Sparta' voice. Thanks.)

****Emma awoke by degrees, her body slowly drifting back into semi-consciousness. She was warm. Too warm. Cracking an eye open, feeling slightly disoriented, she immediately froze. Panic rose in her chest, tightening her throat as she tried to swallow it down and search her sleep-fogged brain for an explanation as to why she was in bed with Killian Jones (again).

Within a few seconds, she'd recalled where she was and why she was sharing a bed with her former one-night stand. But the panic remained. Because it wasn't that she was in bed with him in the first place that was rattling her...but the fact that she was currently _tangled up_ in bed with him.

She remembered going to bed angry and upset, laying on her side with her back to him and listening as he'd entered the room, retreated to the bathroom and returned a little while later to tentatively climb into bed beside her. He'd said goodnight, a quiet, hopeful thing laced around her name, that had made her squeeze her eyes shut and bite her lip, holding back a response and feeling like a bit of an asshole for letting him think she was already sleeping. But she wasn’t ready to face him.

She didn't sleep for hours. Instead, she lay awake replaying the evening, chastising herself over and over for opening up so damn _easily_ to him. She didn't know what the hell had possessed her to do that. (Or, she did, and she just didn't wish to acknowledge it).

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she eventually had, and now she was waking up in Killian’s arms. His right arm was pillowed under her,  with her head against his shoulder, and her right hand gently resting on his bare chest, over his heart that was beating steadily beneath her fingers. Their legs were tangled together beneath the sheets...and Emma had absolutely no idea how she was going to disentangle in order to retreat back to her side of the bed, without waking Killian in the process.

Unsure of how heavy or light of a sleeper he was, the panic was rising again and Emma had to focus on her breathing for a moment. She wasn't a cuddler. She didn't do lazy morning cuddles and sleepy smiles. She didn't even remember the last time she'd woken up beside someone. (That was a lie, she remembered all too well the last guy to stay the night and he was the reason no other guys had seen the morningside of her bed).

When Killian suddenly sighed deeply in his sleep and shifted, their legs untangling as he shifted onto his side facing her, she wanted to weep with relief. Quickly and carefully scooting backwards and away from him, she turned over too, her back to him like the night before. Maybe if he woke now, she mused, he would simply think she hadn't moved all night.

After a few endlessly long minutes passed, with Emma staring at the digital clock next to the bed that announced 6:42am, the mattress shifted again and Killian was getting out of bed, padding quietly across the room to the bathroom, As the lock on the door clicked, Emma let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and muttered a curse at herself for being so fucked up about something as small as an accidental cuddle. But it was more the fact that her unconscious brain had seeked out the warmth and comfort of his arms, which her conscious brain was actively fighting against. It was the ease with which she found herself gravitating towards him that had her pulling away even more fiercely than usual.

When Killian emerged from the bathroom a minute or so later, she was somewhat relieved when she heard him leave the room and make his way downstairs, so she flopped onto her back and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep again.

* * *

CS

* * *

Killian hadn’t been sleeping. He’d awoken a good ten minutes or so before she had, and had stayed perfectly still when he’d opened his eyes and found Emma pressed up against his side. She was warm and soft and looked a lot less fierce with her features relaxed in sleep. He’d let his eyes roam her face for a few moments, committing to memory the constellation of freckles over her nose and the delicate arch of her eyebrows; the way her lips pursed slightly and her eyelids flickered as she dreamed.

But as treasured as the moments of cataloguing her beauty were, he felt like a bit of a creep watching her sleep, and shut his eyes. Instead, he settled for savoring the feel of her in his arms, her walls down and her sleep-warmed skin heating his pleasantly. He didn’t know which of them had initiated their middle-of-the-night cuddle, because they seemed to have met in the middle of the bed, but he wasn’t complaining either way.

Killian could sense the moment Emma woke up though, her body immediately tensing up, and her sharp intake of breath as she realized she was in his arms a dead giveaway. He focused on keeping his face relaxed and his breathing deep and even, sure that she’d bolt immediately if she knew he was awake too. Able to sense her panic, he decided to give her an easy out, and feigned turning over in his sleep, untangling their legs in the process and feeling her quickly put some distance back between them. 

His heart sank a little, a tiny part of him hoping that maybe she would have welcomed the closeness, but he wasn’t unrealistic. He knew full well that she was skittish and that their heart-to-heart the night before had been a huge hurdle for her...one that she seemed to regret.

So he waited for a few minutes, not wanting her to realize he’d been awake the whole time, before slipping out of bed and making his way over to the bathroom. He took care of business and brushed his teeth, glaring at himself in the mirror and silently berating himself for getting in way too deep with a woman who had no interest in a relationship or _feelings_ of any kind. His brother would have given him that bemused, pitying look and said his name in that infuriatingly condescending way of his, telling him he wore his heart on his sleeve, and trusted people with it much too easily.

Throwing his toothbrush back into the cup, he muttered a curse and shook his head. She was under his skin, well and truly. But he knew that once the case was over and they returned to their lives, their _real_ lives, there was a very _real_ chance he’d never see her again. Right now, there was an enforced closeness that they couldn’t do much about. He didn’t want to mistake that for her willingness to see him as anything more than a work partner, lest he return to Virginia with shattered expectations and a broken heart.

Deciding he was definitely not going to get anymore sleep, Killian headed downstairs, his eyes flitting over Emma’s form briefly before he left the room. She still had her back to him, as he’d expected, and he really did try to squash down the disappointment that had wedged itself uncomfortably between his ribs.

Once in the kitchen, he dug through the cupboards, making a mental note that they really had to go shopping seeing as all they had for breakfast was the cold pizza from the night before. Leaving Emma half in case she appeared in search of food, he set the coffee machine to run and occupied himself by flipping through the TV channels.

After his second cup of coffee, the fancy clock mounted on the kitchen wall announced it was finally a civil hour, so he made a quick call the Graham, checking in for any updates.

“G’morning, sir. Nothing to report on this end. We’re keeping a close eye on the file we planted at the group home, and Ms. Mills is cooperating in regards to keeping us informed of any communications from Gold. It’s only been 24 hours though, and thankfully there have been no new victims.”

“The last two were in quick succession. Why the pause now? Is there any reason to believe he may have a victim that he’s keeping alive? Any new missing persons cases involving women in his demographic, with the appropriate backgrounds?”

“I’ll have Belle look into it. A hostage would be a deviation from his MO thus far…”

“Aye, but we can’t rule anything out yet.”

“Yessir. I was...discussing some ideas with David. And perhaps you and Emma should go out in public, be seen a little more in the area. We know he chose his victims using the agency’s files, but we also know he targets happy young couples, so it can’t hurt to potentially put yourselves on his radar.”

Killian remained silent, glancing toward the stairs as he chewed on his bottom lip. Going out in public under the guise of being a happily married young couple who were madly in love with each other would be well out of Emma’s comfort zone, especially after the night before, and the fact that she had firmly brought her walls back up to shut him out.

“Leave it with me. I’ll discuss it with Emma.”

He finally replied, realizing that Graham was still waiting for a response. He didn’t want to agree to something without running it by his partner first, and he was almost sure she would balk at the idea anyway. It was one thing to live together and let people assume that their life behind closed doors was that of a ‘normal’ married couple, but to be in a situation that would potentially require some level of PDA and improvisation that appeared natural...well, that was a whole other thing to ask of her.

Hearing light footsteps descending the stairs, Killian wrapped up his conversation with Graham, thanking him for leading the team in his absence, and hung up. He was waiting for her to sheepishly appear in the doorway of the kitchen, a fresh batch of coffee already brewed for her...but she didn’t appear.

Frowning, he wandered through to the hallway and tentatively called her name. No response. But walking through the first living room that they hadn’t yet used, he noticed the door to the basement home gym was slightly ajar. Approaching it, he heard the distinct sound of one of the machines being used and he paused at the top of the stairs.

_‘If she wanted to speak to you, she wouldn’t have avoided her morning coffee,”_ the little voice in his brain said. Grimacing, he stepped back and decided that if she wanted her space, he’d respect that and willingly give it to her. After all, they were technically just roommates on a job. She didn’t have to talk to him about how she was feeling. He wasn’t _really_ her husband.

He busied himself with odd jobs around the house for the rest of the morning, seeing nothing of Emma except a brief flash of golden hair as she’d disappeared back upstairs after her workout. He was tempted to call out to her, ask her what she wanted to do for lunch, seeing as they didn’t exactly have much in the cupboards other than the dried and canned goods that had been left for them. But he held back once again, silently marvelling at how well she could manage to avoid someone she was _living_ with when she put her mind to it, and sighed deeply as he pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, staving off the headache of frustration that was starting to bloom.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

Emma had absolutely been avoiding him. She’d headed straight down to the home gym, bypassing the kitchen (as though missing her morning caffeine hit would help her already sour mood), and poured all her frustration (mostly at herself) into her workout. She’d pushed herself hard on the treadmill, and been a little more aggressive than usual on the rower. And of course then she’d found it difficult to focus on her yoga stretches, her mind elsewhere and her body wound up too tight to really benefit from the spiritual side of a workout, so she’d given up on that after her third fall onto her butt out of her Firefly pose. 

She’d taken her time with her warm-down, mostly intent on wasting as much time in the gym as possible. She was a little surprised Killian hadn’t followed her down, or come to check on her considering she’d spent most of the morning locked away in the basement. But she appreciated the fact that he hadn’t forced his presence on her and had respected her silent request for space. Not many men were quite as perceptive as him, and she tried not to let it unnerve her that he really did seem able to read her with startling ease.

Glancing at the clock and giving a start when she saw that it was fast approaching lunchtime, her stomach grumbling right on cue, Emma wiped the sweat from her forehead and chest, and tossed her towel around her neck, heading back to her room to shower and change.

Once she was fresh and clean, her hair washed and curled, and her body feeling pleasantly sore from her intense morning workout, she threw on a sundress and swiped a little mascara on her lashes. She felt quite satisfied with her “suburban camouflage”. She’d invested in a bunch of dresses and outfits that she figured would help her fit in more, her signature jeans and leather jackets definitely not falling into that category, and had opted for quite a few simple sundresses that she could tolerate without feeling completely out of her depth.

The one she’d chosen today was a yellow button-up dress with black spots, which fell to an inch or so above her knee, and had a thin, black belt cinched around the waist. She paired it with black gladiator sandals that had a slight wedge, and left her hair falling in loose curls down her back. She felt way more dressed up than she usually would for the little trip she had planned to the grocery store, but she didn’t want to stick out too much in her usual attire.

Checking her appearance one more time in the full length mirror and nodding in approval, she headed for the stairs. It just so happened that Killian appeared at the bottom of the stairs at that moment, and the air felt like it had suddenly been sucked out of her lungs. By his expression, it seemed as though he felt the same.

He’d been about to go upstairs to find her, somewhat concerned that she still hadn’t eaten anything, or had a caffeine hit. But just as he’d reached the bottom of the stairs, she’d appeared at the top, and he could safely say it felt like a sucker punch to his windpipe when he caught sight of her.

She looked breathtaking, even in such a simple outfit. He’d never seen her in a dress, and he was _really_ struggling to keep his eyes from flickering down to the miles of toned legs on display as she slowly made her way down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, he’d finally composed himself enough to find his voice.

“You...uh, you look-”

“Not my usual style. But I’m trying to fit in around here. Not many suburban wives rocking the leather.”

She sounded a little defensive and she wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he reached up to scratch his ear, his nervous tick that she pretended she hadn’t noticed.

“No, I mean, you look beautiful...was what I was going to say.”

There was an awkward silence between them for a moment, Emma turning the rings on her left hand over with her thumb - her own nervous tick - before she cleared her throat and nodded toward the front door.

“I’m gonna go grocery shopping...”

“Oh. Yeah, okay. That’s probably a good idea, seeing as we have nothing but canned vegetables and pasta in the cupboards. Are we going now?”

Emma immediately shook her head.

“I’m going on my own. I don’t need-” she paused, noticing the hurt that flashed in his eyes and not wishing to be needlessly cruel no matter how desperately she was trying to keep him at arm’s length, “I just...I need to get out of the house, Jones. I’ve been living on my own so long that I got used to my own company, and I just need some time by myself.”

She’d softened her voice, and could tell he was trying his best to look unaffected by her desire to put as much space between them as she could. Avoiding him all morning seemingly hadn’t been enough of a distance for her, and that stung more than he’d care to admit. His eyes gave him away, despite the careful way he’d schooled his features into a mask of indifference, and she dropped her gaze. He stepped out of her way then and forced a smile.

“Don’t forget the Cap’n Crunch, love.”

He said quietly, trying to inject a lightness into his voice and falling short.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

Advil. She was definitely going to need Advil. The tension headache she’d had since waking up for the second time that morning had not abated, and she _knew_ it wouldn’t go away until she faced the elephant in the room and stopped trying to avoid Killian. But with a stubborn streak a mile wide, and fear that rose up like bile in her throat at the very thought of _talking_ about what had happened the night before, she didn’t see her headache problem being resolved anytime soon. So, stocking up on Advil was her solution.

She’d taken her time perusing the aisles of the Market Basket she’d found while driving around. She’d tossed in the Cap’n Crunch Killian had asked for and Froot Loops for herself, along with a couple boxes of Pop Tarts and a pack of her favorite hot chocolate mix. Milk, bread, some cold meats and condiments went into the cart next, followed by the obligatory jars of peanut butter and jelly.

She’d grudgingly added some produce to her haul, figuring Killian would probably want at least some nutritional value to his meals, even if she avoided anything green like the plague. She stocked up on snacks and a whole slew of frozen foods that would keep them going for at least a week or two. And that’s when she’d remembered the mental note she’d made in the car about the Advil.

As she was scanning the aisle, Emma suddenly heard her name being called...and it was a voice she’d recognize anywhere. Her blood ran cold as she stood frozen to the spot, dread constricting her chest. It was only when she heard her name again, closer this time, that she steeled herself and turned around.

“Neal.”

She said flatly, her voice much steadier than she felt. He was staring at her, and she was finding it a struggle to maintain a passive expression under his intense gaze. His eyes travelling the length of her made her stomach roll with disgust.

“Emma, you look…”

“I’m busy, Neal. Was there something you wanted?”

She asked, schooling her face into a mask of boredom, drumming her fingers against the handlebar of the shopping cart and causing his gaze to jump to the rock on her finger. Despite the fact that it was all an act and her ring was just a part of that, Emma couldn’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the way his jaw clenched from believing she’d moved on from him so successfully.

“You live around here?”

He asked, the surprise evident in his tone and she folded her arms, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Yes. My husband and I just bought a new house, actually. Not that it’s any of your business.”

There was the jaw clench again, and it was once again thoroughly satisfying.

“Seems like you’ve done well for yourself…”

“No thanks to you.”

She shot back, and he stared at her, seemingly lost for words, or lost for an _excuse_ more like, she thought bitterly. There’d always been an excuse with him. And she’d been too young and naive and desperate not to be alone that she’d let them fly, again and again. Until he’d tossed her aside just as her parents had.

He dropped his gaze to her cart then, and Emma acted on impulse, grabbing three boxes of condoms from the shelf right beside her and tossing them into the cart, solely to be spiteful and dig the knife in that little bit further as they landed in his line of sight. Neal met her eyes then, the coldness she saw there making a shiver run up her spine.

She shrugged, giving him a saccharine smile and absently brushing her curls back off her face.

“Don’t want any accidents,” she said breezily, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a husband to get home to. Bye, Neal.”

She could feel Neal’s glare burning into her back as she walked away, never looking back and trying to contain the warring emotions inside of her as she hurried toward the checkouts. On one hand, her skin buzzed with the self-satisfied feeling of sticking it to him and making him think she’d gone and had a great life despite him, that she’d fallen in love again and been _enough_ for someone, the way she never was for him. But on the other hand, seeing him again had brought back all the feelings she’d fought so hard to bury over the years, that lost little girl who’d thought she’d never matter to anyone, suddenly right there on the surface again.

She paid for and packed the groceries and loaded them into the trunk in a kind of daze, and then, as she sat in the parking lot in the silence of the car, she broke down. Gripping the steering wheel til her knuckles turned white, she let it all out as sobs wracked her body. She’d hoped she’d never see that ghost from her past ever again, and then suddenly there he was, saying her name like no time had passed at all.

It had shaken her up, and it was another ten minutes before she’d managed to calm herself down enough to drive, wiping her tears and wondering how the hell she could explain her panda eyes and shaking hands to Killian. He’d get that overly concerned look on his face, and she’d end up breaking down again and pouring her heart out to him on their sofa once more. She wasn’t sure she could handle that again, not when she was desperately trying to keep him at arm’s length, so much so that the effort of it had given her a day-long headache that was now made even worse by the crying.

And dammit, she’d forgotten the Advil. 

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

He wanted to ask. She could tell by the concern etched into the handsome lines of his face when he frowned, those too-blue eyes taking in her smudged mascara and no-doubt puffy eyes. She’d walked into the kitchen and dropped the first two grocery bags on the counter, returning to the car for the next and when she returned he was still stood there, on the opposite side of the counter, questions on his lips.

She was grateful he didn’t ask, apparently able to read the “leave it alone” vibes she was giving off. Instead, they unpacked the groceries in silence, moving around each other with practiced ease despite the newness of it all, as they found places in cupboards and the pantry for all the food.

Killian stopped dead as he stared into the bag he was unpacking, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, and Emma felt her cheeks immediately burn when he pulled out the boxes of condoms she’d thrown in solely as a way to spite her ex. He looked at her questioningly and she turned away to occupy herself with putting the boxes of cereal away so she didn’t have to look him in the eye.

“Not what it looks like. I...uh…”

How exactly did she explain three boxes of condoms without going into all the details? She didn’t want to talk about Neal. She didn’t want to end up breaking down and opening up to him again right there in the middle of the kitchen. She just wanted to put the groceries away and take a long, hot bath to ease the tension in her shoulders.

“Alright…” he said slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully, “I’ll just...put them in this spare drawer, with the matches and batteries.”

Emma could tell he felt like he was walking on eggshells with her, and she felt a stab of guilt that she was obviously making things uncomfortable for him, when he’d done nothing wrong. It was her walls and her issues that were the problem, and her fear of letting anyone see her in any kind of vulnerable state. He didn’t deserve her cold shoulder for doing nothing but being a nice guy and unintentionally making her _feel_ things she’d closed herself off to for so long.

And yet she couldn’t stop herself from employing all of her defense mechanisms, giving him the side of her that she was sure would put him off her. No one liked an Ice Queen, right? And that was for the best. After all, once their case was over, he’d leave too, just like all the rest. So what was the point in getting attached?

“I’m gonna go take a bath. Don’t wait up for me for dinner, I’ll just have some cereal later.”

With that, she headed for the stairs, not looking back for fear of the disappointment or frustration she might see on his face. She kept trying to remind herself that she was pushing him away for the good of both of them, no matter how much it made her feel like she had a brick sitting heavily in the pit of her stomach. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t follow her upstairs to try and _talk_. He once again just gave her the space she silently asked for.

The hot bath seemed to help ease the ache in her shoulders, and even dulled her headache too. By the time she got out, dried off and pulled on her white pyjama shorts and matching button-up sleep shirt, it was getting late. She slipped downstairs, inhaled a bowl of Froot Loops, and returned to the bedroom. She wanted the day to be over, and an early night seemed the best way of making that happen.

After brushing her teeth, she stepped back into the bedroom and found Killian putting away his clothes, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. She quickly averted her eyes from their appreciative perusal of his tanned, toned back, and swallowed thickly as she tried to find her voice.

“I’m, uh, getting an early night. I’m tired…”

He glanced over his shoulder at her and offered a small, tight smile.

“Aye, me too. It’s been a long day.”

He moved past her then, heading for the bathroom. She let out a long breath as he shut the door behind him, and tried to ignore the fluttering of nerves at the idea of going to bed _with_ him tonight. She couldn’t pretend to already be sleeping when he slipped in beside her this time. No one could fall asleep that fast. So, instead, she climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling and trying to empty her mind of all the noisy thoughts crashing around in her tired brain.

Killian didn’t say a word when he joined her, simply switching off the lights and climbing into bed, lying beside her in a weirdly comfortable silence. She didn’t feel like she had to fill the silence, but the words were suddenly falling from her lips easily.

“I bumped into my ex at the grocery store. The one who...broke my heart.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and at first, she wasn’t sure if he’d even heard her, because he lay perfectly still for long moments.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He asked quietly, and somehow, lying there in the half-darkness with him, she did. Perhaps it felt safer like this, she reasoned. The stillness and the low light, and not feeling like those eyes of his were seeing right down to her soul. It made her feel less vulnerable, even though part of her was screaming not to do it, not to open up once more, that she’d regret it all over again in the harsh light of the morning.

“Yeah…” she whispered finally, her throat constricting.

He waited for her to find her voice, to sort through the jumbled mess of her thoughts and try to organize her emotions enough to explain to him what had happened. She appreciated his patience.

“He called my name, and I just...I froze. I felt like I’d had the floor pulled out from under me. I never thought I’d see him again - I never _wanted_ to see him again. And then he was just... _there_. Looking exactly the same, having the fucking nerve to look me up and down like he was remembering what I looked like naked,” she felt Killian tense up beside her, “I thought I was gonna throw up.”

“Please tell me you punched the arsehole in the face? It’s the least he deserved.”

She could hear the way he was clearly clenching his jaw, reining in a flare of anger toward the man who’d ripped her heart out when she was just a child, left her pregnant and alone in a prison cell and completely destroyed her ability to trust anyone with her heart.

She shook her head, still staring up at the ceiling.

“No. I didn’t. But he saw my ring and I really played up the whole ‘I’ve moved on and I have a great life despite you’ angle. That’s what the condoms were about. I threw them into the cart just to get a rise out of him. It was petty, I know-”

“It was brilliant, love,” he corrected, turning on his side to face her and propping himself up on his elbow, “I would’ve loved to see the expression on that prat’s face when you did that.”

She didn’t turn her head to meet his gaze, but she could feel the soft gaze her had trained on her, and without warning, tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“I imagined that meeting for years, y’know. I never wanted to see him again, but I’d thought about what I’d do a million times, if I ever did. And none of those scenarios were as good as making him think I’ve got some perfect suburban life with a husband and a fancy house and a good job. But none of this is real. I don’t _really_ have any of this. Truth is, I’m still as broken and fucked up as I was the day he left me. I still let him have that power over me. On the inside, I’m still that stupid 17 year old kid who has no idea what love is or how to properly trust someone, who’s too screwed up for anyone to be able to really love. So yeah, the act I put on was brilliant, but in reality, he’s still winning. And I hate him for that. I hate _myself_ for that.”

A sob caught in her throat and she frustratedly wiped away her tears, angry that she was once again crying over Neal. He didn’t deserve her tears or her pain, yet she was still giving them to him, ten years on.

Killian ached to reach out to her, to soothe her and tell her exactly what he saw when he looked at her. A strong, resilient, brave woman who had survived way more than most people would, and who still had so much capacity for love despite her fear of it. A beautiful, powerful, independent woman who had been dealt a shit hand in life right from the start, yet she’d turned it around and made something of herself. A woman who was more than _enough_ , who had stolen his attention (and his heart, if he was being completely honest with himself) and gotten under his skin from the moment he’d met her.

He saw her so differently than the way she saw herself, and it made him ache to hear the self-loathing in her voice as she berated herself for the wrongdoings of a man who had never deserved to be given the gift of her heart and her affections. He’d not only broken her heart, but also crushed her self-esteem and made her doubt her worth. And yet she seemed to think that was somehow her fault.

“Emma. Listen to me. What that sorry excuse of a man did to you was unforgivable. You were a child and he took advantage of you. Men like him...they’re predators. They see a person’s weakness and they prey on it. He preyed on you; he saw a young girl who wanted nothing more than to be loved and to belong, and he capitalized on that. You didn’t do a single thing to deserve that, so please, _please_ don’t blame or hate yourself for being brave enough to be vulnerable and trust him. The fact that he turned that around and used it to hurt you...that makes him a monster. It doesn’t make you anything other than a young woman who was brave enough to take a chance and fall in love. You’re not stupid, and you’re certainly not too screwed up to be loved.”

She remained silent for a moment, sniffling as she wiped away more tears.

“I think my track record with dating, or more like my _lack_ of it, kinda says otherwise,” she said quietly, a bitter edge to her words, “And I always told myself I was just better off alone, that it was safer not to take a risk on someone and that I didn't _need_ anyone other than myself. That I’ve gotten through most of my life alone and I’m doing _fine_. But there’s a difference between needing and wanting. And I want to stop letting what he did to me ruin every relationship I could potentially have, before I even let them start. But I don’t know how. You think I’m brave, but I’m not, Killian. Because if I was, a man who broke my heart a decade ago wouldn’t still have enough power over me to keep me in this permanent state of fear when it comes to emotional attachments. That makes me too screwed up to be loved. No one deserves to get stuck with a woman who can’t even stay the night without feeling like she’s being suffocated.”

She gave a shaky sigh and shook her head, eyes tracing the silhouettes that the moonlight filtering through a crack in the curtains onto the small chandelier above them was casting along the ceiling. Killian was still facing her, studying her profile in the darkened room, wishing more than anything that he could make her see herself through his eyes.

“Well maybe there’s someone who would love the chance to be _stuck_ with you, and who would gladly take on the challenge of getting you to see yourself differently. To make you see that you’re more than enough and help you get rid of those fears. Maybe there’s someone who would love to show you what love can really be like, who’d wait for as long as you needed and work to earn your trust.”

He reached out then, his fingers tenderly brushing away a stray tear, and she sucked in her breath at the unexpected contact, her heart already hammering and her chest feeling tight with the weight of his loaded words.

“Don’t,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, “I’m sorry. I just...please...don’t touch me. Not right now.”

He pulled his hand away as though he’d been burned, the rejection a searing pain through his heart. He knew he probably shouldn’t have pushed those boundaries or showed his hand, admitting the feelings that had started to take root. She was raw and hurting and shaken up from seeing her arsehole of an ex-boyfriend again. That, coupled with the tension that was already between them following their heart-to-heart and their kiss the night before, had to be an emotional overload for a woman who had shut herself off from any kind of emotional connection for over a decade.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

She cut him off, clearly signalling that she didn’t want to talk anymore, that the heavy conversation in the darkness of their bedroom had become too much. He conceded, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest and the heavy feeling in his stomach as she turned away.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many millions of thanks to Irene for being the best soundboard, bff and editor ever, and to Victoria for being an incredible motivator and cheerleader with all the kind words, encouragement and support.
> 
> Also thanks to every single one of you who reads and reviews/leaves kudos/tweets me/tumblr messages me etc about this little fic and makes my entire week with feedback. It honestly does mean a whole lot to me, and I appreciate you taking the time and effort to do that.
> 
> I promise this whole thing won't be gratuitous angst, and I always deliver payoff for those who survive my angst-fest chapters! There are plenty twists and turns to come, more developments with the case, more Daddy David and Will Scarlet appearances and just more...everything, really!


	9. Chapter 9

****David had to walk out of the room. The air in the small back office, currently filled with computer screens and whiteboards of scattered evidence photos and question marks, suddenly felt suffocatingly oppressive.

He had the late shift duty of manning the security cameras. And if he was being honest, he was relieved it was his turn, because it meant he could personally keep his eye in her and put his mind at ease that she was safe. But what he’d heard tonight, the self-loathing and hidden fears Emma had confessed to Killian in the quiet stillness of the bedroom, had made him feel like he'd been punched in the gut.

The hardass, no-nonsense persona she wore was simply armor. It always had been. And he'd been aware of that, aware that she had a painful past she didn't ever talk about. He'd never pushed her to. But he hadn't realized quite how terribly she'd had her heart broken, or how deeply her scars ran.

He may have been close to her, and one of the few people in her life who had always believed in her, but she'd never confided in him about the pain that had clearly been simmering just below the surface for all the years he'd know her. And he felt as though somehow he'd failed her, if she hadn't felt able to come to him about something that was weighing so heavily.

He'd broken his pen from clenching it so hard as he'd listened to her broken whispers interspersed with almost-silent sobs. He watched her lying there, the camera’s night mode allowing him to see her eyes wide as she stared up at the ceiling and clutched the blanket, with Killian turning on his side to look at her.

Yes, David still hated the fact that Killian was sleeping beside Emma each night now, decidedly-paternal protectiveness rearing its head. But he also felt a surge of something akin to pride when he heard the man ripping Neal apart and telling Emma with fierce conviction and unwavering earnestness just how he saw her, trying to make her understand that she was _special_ and worth so much more than Neal had ever let her believe.

He’d stepped outside to get some air, musing about how he suddenly understood some of his fellow officers’ preferences for lighting up a cigarette during stressful cases. As he closed his eyes and leaned back against the rough brick wall of the quiet building, only a few people coming and going now that most were either long gone for the day or on a late patrol, he heard a soft voice calling out to him. A voice that always, no matter what, could make his worst days that little bit brighter.

“You’ve got that brooding cop thing going on, and I can’t help but find it ridiculously sexy.”

His wife was smiling at him, walking slowly up the steps with a large tupperware box in her hands. He felt his weariness ebb away marginally as he grinned and stepped towards her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a tight hug.

She mumbled about the tupperware - she’d brought him dinner in case he got hungry on his late shift - but hugged him back with one arm before pulling back and looking up at him with mild concern.

“Is everything okay, honey?”

She asked softly, a slight frown creasing her forehead. He sighed, running a hand over his face and canting his head toward the building.

“I’ll tell you about it inside.”

“Is Emma okay?”

“Yeah, she’s...safe, at least. I don’t know about okay. I’m not sure she’s ever been okay.”

He said cryptically, an edge to his town that had Mary Margaret’s frown deepening. She’d gotten to know Emma over the years, and despite being not that much older than the young detective, she found David’s protective instinct rubbing off on her. As an elementary school teacher, she was already ‘chronically maternal’, or that’s the way Emma had described her at least.

Emma had joined David’s department a few weeks before Christmas and, after hearing that the teenager had no family to speak of, Mary Margaret had insisted on her joining them for the holidays that year. She’d reluctantly accepted (mostly because Mary Margaret hadn’t really given her a choice) and she had awkwardly sat through her first ‘family Christmas dinner’ ever. It had become somewhat of a tradition after that, and their little misfit group now spent every holiday together.

“What’s going on, David?”

She asked again, once they reached the office, and David led her silently through to the makeshift security den. Mary Margaret’s eyes scanned the screens, stopping on the screen that now showed Emma and Killian sleeping, facing away from each other.

“Oh, David. If you’re feeling all protective because-”

“It’s not about that. Though I’m still not a fan of her being _forced_ to sleep next to a guy she barely even knows,” he sighed, shaking his head, “They were talking before. Or rather, she was talking. About Neal. And about how badly he hurt her; how she still hurts because of him. And she blames herself for that.”

Mary Margaret looked stricken, placing the tupperware down on the table and reaching for her husband even as her eyes flickered over her sleeping friend’s form on the screen.

“Oh, Emma…”

She said softly. She knew very little about Neal, and Emma had always closed up pretty quickly anytime she’d offhandedly mentioned something about him. She hadn’t disclosed much over the years, other than that he’d broken her heart and abandoned her. They’d only just found out about the pregnancy and subsequent adoption recently, though they had known he’d set her up and she’d had a brief stint in prison because of him too. David had, after all, worked hard to get her hired at the station despite the criminal record.

“She bumped into him. Neal, I mean. At the grocery store. I just listened to her pour her heart out to Killian about how broken she is and I just...God, Mary Margaret, she’s been hurting this whole time and I never even knew it.”

He slammed his hand down on the desk, the wood shuddering and creaking with his outburst of frustration. Mary Margaret gently put her own hand over his fist, squeezing reassuringly before lifting it to cup his cheek.

“David. Don’t beat yourself up over this. I know you care about Emma; I do too. And I know this whole undercover operation, sending her out to bait some murderer, isn’t sitting well with you. Because you’re a _protector_ in that big heart of yours, and she’s always gonna be that wary, mistrustful little kid with a black eye and a mean right hook who you want to take care of. But she’s a strong, brave woman, and you have to trust that she can handle all of this.”

David pulled his wife into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and murmuring his thanks. She could always soothe his worries with a gentle voice and tender touches, He may not be able to truly rest easy until Emma returned home from her undercover vacation, but Mary Margaret was right. He had to trust she could handle it, and with Killian by her side, he thought that maybe her burden might just be that little bit easier to carry.

“She opened up to him. To Killian.”

Mary Margaret lifted her head to glance over at the screen again. Emma had turned over and was facing Killian, while he lay on his back now, both lost in slumber. She smiled and met David’s gaze.

“That’s a _good_ sign, honey. We both know how hard she finds it to connect with people...if she’s opened up to him, maybe there’s something _more_ there. And that’s just what she needs. She’s been alone the entire time we’ve known her…”

David scowled at the screens, unable to argue with the points his wife was making. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I don’t want her to get hurt and shut herself off even more because of it. And all of this,” he gestured to the screens, “It’s not real, and I don’t want her to end up invested in someone who’s got a deadline here. Jones is going to go back to Virginia after we close the case...and from what Emma said before, I don’t know if her heart can take anyone else breaking it.”

He closed his eyes, holding Mary Margaret that little bit tighter.

“You just have to trust her, like I said. I know it’s hard when you just want to protect her, but if she lets Killian in...then I imagine she’ll be going into it with her eyes wide open. She isn’t one for letting anyone get close to her easily. Look how long it took her to warm up to Will, and that was just as a _partner_ , not romantically. She’s guarded and she keeps people at arm’s length. If Killian chips away at her walls and shows her that she is capable of feeling something, it’ll be good for her. But you can bet she’ll spend plenty time deciding whether to make that choice first.”

David watched Emma twist and turn in bed on the screen, moving closer to Killian and seemingly seeking out his warmth in her sleep. He grimaced slightly and averted his eyes, somehow feeling like he was invading her privacy by doing his job and watching over them. He knew his wife was probably right too, but it still felt like he was helplessly watching Emma tentatively take steps onto a ship he knew was only going to sink. And there was nothing he could do about it, other than to hope she’d be able to swim.

* * *

_**CS  
**_

* * *

 

It had happened again.

For the second time, Emma was waking up in Killian’s arms. This time, he was spooning her, but they were decidedly on _his_ side of the bed. Meaning she’d likely been the one to initiate their unconscious cuddling. His right arm was stretched out under her head, which was once again pillowed on his shoulder, and she could feel the solid heat of him pressed against her from thigh to chest. His left arm rested across her waist, hand against the flat expanse of her bare stomach where her sleep shirt had ridden up, and she squeezed her eyes shut again as she tried to fight back a wave of unwelcome warmth that accompanied the sudden awareness of his touch.

Even though she was sure he was still sleeping, if his soft snores were anything to go by, there was one area of his anatomy that was most definitely _very_ awake, and Emma felt her cheeks blaze with the realization of exactly _what_ was pressed firmly against her ass. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what he was packing. She’d been _intimately_ acquainted with him, like she could ever forget.

But that was different. He was a nameless stranger then; a body for her to use and enjoy. Now...well, now, she didn’t know _what_ the hell he was. A co-worker, sure. A friend, maybe? Something more...she was really trying not to let her mind go there.

He mumbled in his sleep then, shifting and sighing into her hair, nuzzling into her neck from behind before settling once more. Emma was holding her breath, her whole body frozen and shivers running up her spine from his actions. But it wasn’t fear she felt bubbling up this time. It was frustration, and anger. Anger at herself, for her body’s inability to _stay the hell away_ even when she could reel off at least half a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t want him the way she did. Why she _couldn’t do this_.

Throwing his arm off her, and startling him awake in the process, Emma bolted from the bed and headed for the door, hoping they still had some beer left in the refrigerator, if not something stronger sitting in one of the cupboards. It was barely 3am, but she knew she’d never fall back to sleep without the aid of something vaguely alcoholic to numb her senses.

Thanking whatever deities she could think of when she found a bottle of unopened rum in one of the cupboards - presuming Killian to have brought it with him - she grabbed it along with a glass and poured herself a healthy measure.

“Pour me one as well, love.”

Killian appeared in the doorway, looking unfairly attractive with his hair all mussed, sticking up at odd angles. His voice was husky with sleep, and she tried to ignore the stab of _want_ it caused to reverberate across every nerve ending in her damn body. He padded over to the island and perched on a breakfast stool, no shirt on and with his sleep pants sitting low on his hips, tempting her gaze with the smattering of chest hair leading down to his happy trail that disappeared into his pants. He was just _unfair_.

She chewed on her bottom lip and assessed him for a long moment before turning and grabbing a second glass, matching his measure of rum to her own and pushing it towards him without a word.

He threw back the rum and winced as he swallowed it down, unprepared for the rich assault on his tastebuds so soon after waking. The heat from the rum immediately warmed him though, and had him reaching for the bottle to pour himself another.

Emma was watching him carefully, that familiar guarded expression on her face as she nursed her drink, sipping at it cautiously and remaining silent. He sighed.

“Do you wish for me to take one of the other bedrooms? Because I will, just say the word. You’re clearly uncomfortable-”

“I don’t trust myself around you.”

She cut him off with quiet words, and it wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He’d anticipated frustration and accusation in her tone, her fear of what seemed to be blossoming out of their control presenting itself through anger. They both knew full well that the intimacy they seemed to have found themselves sharing was no one’s _fault_ though. Her anger was a smoke screen; her way of venting her panic at the lack of control she had in a situation she was anything but comfortable in.

But he didn’t get her anger. He got a quiet confession instead, and he could hear the fear laced around each word, despite the fact that her voice was barely above a whisper. The air of the early hours was still and a little oppressive around them, deafeningly silent as they watched each other from opposite sides of the kitchen island.

“You don’t...trust yourself around me?”

He repeated slowly, unsure of how to properly respond to such an admission. He never felt like he was on an even footing when it came to Emma Swan. He’d never met anyone quite like her, but the situation they were currently in wasn’t an ideal one for exploring newfound feelings.

Emma sighed, foregoing her tentative sips of her drink now and choosing instead to throw it back, mirroring his reaction from when he’d done the same, before placing the empty glass next to the bottle. She turned away from him then, her shoulders sagging as she braced both hands on the counter. He supposed she found it easier to talk when she wasn’t looking at him.

“I don’t do relationships. Like I said. But you...ever since that first night, the _only_ night we were supposed to have, you were in my damn head. Under my skin. You make me feel...off balance. I mean, I didn't even stop for one _second_ and think about condoms or anything when I went back to your hotel with you. And that's  _not_ me-"

"Emma, you're not-"

"Christ, I'm not a complete idiot, Jones. I have an IUD. But I don't make a habit of sleeping with someone I've just met without making damn sure I'm protected on _all_ bases. Except with you...I just...it didn't even cross my mind, because I was so caught up in everything. In _you_. And then the next day you were suddenly  _there_  a-and now we're _here_ , and I...I try to ignore it, to fight it, and what happens? I keep waking up in your arms. I don’t want that...or I don’t _want to want_ that. But my body has other ideas and I just...I just want it to _stop_. I want to go back to one nighters being enough.”

Her voice cracked and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, refusing to cry despite her frustration. Words weren’t really her forté. She was more of an action girl. So trying to explain herself, to explain _feelings_ especially, was not her strong suit.

The silence that sat between them then didn’t help. He seemed to be weighing up her words and she fought the urge to look back over her shoulder at him, to gauge his reaction. But she remained still, waiting through silent seconds that stretched out painfully.

“You’re under my skin too,” he finally said, his voice cautious, “And I know the timing is bad, and that getting distracted by all of...this,” she knew he was gesturing between them without even looking, “could screw things up with the case. But neither of us knew this was going to happen when we met at the pub that night. And Emma...I don’t regret it. I don’t regret what we did, not for a single second. I just regret the timing. Because I _want_ you. I want more than one night. But I’m not foolish enough to think that playing house with you is going to make you want the same.”

Her hands were shaking, and she clenched them into fists quickly, trying to get her pounding heart under control. He was laying his heart out for her, and all her brain could do was scream “no!” at her repeatedly. But she didn’t want to hurt him, and she knew she’d already been pretty difficult to deal with, even after only two days of living together. So she consciously slowed her breathing down and squashed the rising panic threatening to make her bolt, and turned to face him.

“You’re right...I-I...don’t want the same,” she saw him swallow thickly, dropping his gaze to the glass of amber liquid remaining in his glass and fighting to keep his expression passive, “Because you scare the shit out of me. Or, I guess...what you make me feel scares the shit out of me. All of this, playing house as you called it...it’s completely foreign to me. I’ve never had a family or a proper relationship, Killian. I’ve never known what a normal, healthy relationship looks like. But this is, what, our _third_ little heart-to-heart in two days? I don’t _do_ opening up to people, and yet you make this whole this thing, being with you like this, feel like it could be so easy. And _that_ makes me wanna get as far away from you as possible.”

Killian remained quiet, and Emma half expected to see pity in his eyes. Pity for the fucked up mess of a human she was, as he wondered what on earth he saw in her. But there was no such thing. Instead, all she saw was contemplative understanding and open curiosity. She wasn’t scaring him off by revealing how broken she truly was.

“It could be easy, Emma. Perhaps not in the situation we’re in now, but it could be. And maybe I’m a little scared too. Because I’ve had my heart broken before as well, though it pales in comparison to what your ex did to you. But mine is a story for another time,” he grimaced, and she couldn’t help but wonder about that story, “I know we have to maintain our cover, and giving in to what’s between us could jeopardize that, but I don’t want to scare you either. So if you’d rather I slept in one of the other bedrooms, regardless of what Graham said, then I will. Just say the word.”

She hesitated before shaking her head. As much as she hated her body and her unconscious mind for betraying her the way it seemed to be doing, repeatedly, she also craved the closeness. The treasured few seconds in his arms before reality seeped back into her awareness and her fight or flight kicked in.

“No, it’s okay. I can handle it. I’m...sorry for being such a bitch these last few days. I tend to...lash out, when I feel cornered. Not that you cornered me, I just mean...feelings and all that shit. I felt cornered by myself. If that even makes any sense. Oh yeah, and I don’t know when to shut up when I’m nervous, if you hadn’t noticed that already...”

She let out a short, shaky laugh, wrapping her arms around herself, as Killian moved from his place on the breakfast stool to round the counter and stand in front of her. She hesitated in meeting his gaze, her heart skipping as she finally lifted her head and found him smiling down at her. That small, hopeful smile that made her chest constrict slightly. Her breath hitched as he leaned in, and she froze, arms still wrapped tightly around herself. But he didn’t lean in and plant one on her like she’d initially thought he was going to. Instead, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her cheek, pulling back to smile at her again as he encouraged her to release her self-protective stance with a gentle tug of her hand..

“Let’s go back to bed, Swan? I promise not to cuddle you.”

Emma choked out a laugh, his humor and that stupid grin he now wore immediately dissipating the tension in the room. She let him take her hand and lead her back toward the stairs, rolling her eyes at him even as the little voice in her head reminded her once again just how easy it could be to choose to be with him for real.

* * *

**CS**

* * *

The fourth victim was called in at 8am. A rookie cop had attended a domestic disturbance call in Winchester, just fifteen minutes from Emma and Killian’s house in Lexington. Neighbors had called it in, complaining of screaming early that morning and concerned for the wellbeing of the usually-quiet and content couple who lived in the house on Edgehill Road.

The victim, thirty year old Guinevere Ruiz, had been found in the living room, with her heart ripped out just like the previous victims. This time, however, unlike the previous victims, Guinevere’s husband, Arthur, had also been home, and was found in bed with a single gunshot-wound to the head.

As soon as the local police department had seen Guinevere and realized she was another victim of the “Mass Murderer”, as the Massachusetts media had colloquially named the killer, despite there being victims in other states, they had immediately made a call to Graham.

David and Will followed Graham to the scene, after leaving Emma and Killian voicemails to inform them of the news. They wouldn’t be able to attend the scene, but David knew they’d both want to be kept informed of any developments, especially with Emma repeatedly reminding them that it was _her_ case.

When they arrived, they were relieved to find that the local police had been competent enough to hold off on bringing the CSIs in to process the crime scene, willingly stepping back and handing over the reins to Graham.

“So he killed a bloke too this time. That’s new.”

Will commented, hands on his hips, standing over the body of Guinevere and watching Graham inspect her closely before scanning the room.

“Yeah, it’s new. But is it an escalation, a planned compromise or was the husband’s presence unexpected? This unsub seemed to know the schedule of the previous victims and waited until their husbands were away overnight before making his move. We’ll need to find out why this time was different.”

“And we should prob’ly check if she gave up a kid too, right?”

Graham nodded. There were no pictures of children anywhere in the house, but there hadn’t been any in the first victim’s home either. He made a quick call to Belle then, to give her the victims’ details so that she could go digging while they found out what they could at the scene.

Neighbors reported that Guinevere and Arthur were a well-liked couple who kept to themselves. They didn’t seem to know all that much about them, other than that Guinevere was a housewife and that Arthur worked as a specialist curator of swords at the MIT Museum. It was quite clear what his speciliasm was, considering the number of swords mounted in place of artwork around the house. And none of them seemed to have been moved, suggesting the unsub hadn’t utilized any of the numerous weapons on show. But they were all bagged up as evidence to test for fingerprints and blood regardless.

By the time the house had been processed for evidence, and the two victims signed over to the Coroner, Belle had called back to inform them of what she’d found. Graham put her on speakerphone, allowing Will and David to also hear her findings.

“Guinevere did give up a child for adoption, five years ago, and yes, it was the same agency as all the other victims. Arthur wasn’t on the birth certificate as the father though,” she told them, the clicking of her computer keys audible as she scoured through her finds, “But it gets juicier. Arthur spent a year in Europe helping to establish and curate the biggest armory collection in the world. And that was the same year Guinevere would’ve been pregnant…”

“D’ya reckon he knew his wife was gettin’ busy with some other fella while he was away?”

Will mused, exchanging glances with David and Graham.

“Well, it was a closed adoption and only Guinevere signed the papers. I got in touch with Ms. Mills and she had someone drive over here with the file right away. It was in the list of files that originally went missing.”

“So, chances are, the unsub made a hit list using those files before they were returned. We need to speak to Robert Gold,” Graham pressed his fingers to his temples and sighed, “He’s a chairman of the group home’s board, and a big-time donor, and he was also the one who had the files returned. He has the access he’d need, we just need to find a motive, so we need to bring him in for a voluntary interview. He’s our number one suspect right now, but we don’t have enough hard evidence to charge him with anything yet.”

David nodded in agreement, but he was frowning, something just not sitting right.

“Gold is notoriously one for avoiding getting his own hands dirty though, which is why no one has been able to touch him so far, despite the fact that we know he’s been involved in criminal activity for years now. He’s always been meticulous at covering his tracks before, leaving circumstantial evidence at best. Certainly not enough to make any kind of conviction stick. What’s different this time?”

“Well, if it’s personal, maybe emotions and all that made him sloppy,” Will suggested with a shrug. “It’s nowt like the fraud and drug cases he’s been linked to, so if this is summat personal, per’aps he let his emotions get in the way.”

Graham considered Will for a moment. They couldn’t rule out anything before they’d even interviewed Robert Gold, but he found it hard to believe the man could ever be capable of being ‘sloppy’ when it came to covering his tracks.

“I’m not sure Gold has the ability to experience emotions,” Graham commented sourly, “But we’ll bring him in and see what he’s got to say for himself. We can’t overlook the blatant connections to him, and despite how clever and calculating he can be, who knows, he might slip up and reveal a little too much.”

“Let’s hope so. Though I can’t see him showing up without a lawyer, or volunteering much information willingly,” David exchanged a look with Graham and sighed, “When we get back to the station I’ll give Emma a call. She’ll want to know everything we know so far.”

“Yes, and we need to compile a list of couples from the previously missing files, because all of them are potential victims. Will, can you get onto that?” Will nodded solemnly, “We also need to get Emma and Killian out in public as soon as possible, playing up that happy couple angle and potentially distracting the unsub from their hit list. Mention that when you’re updating them on the newest victims. And I’ll check in with Regina on whether or not there’s been any moves on their file at the group home.”

The trio headed for their cars, the pressure to catch the killer weighing heavily on all of them. Despite the relief David felt knowing that Emma was safe thus far, he knew that wasn’t the purpose of their mission. And with the number of victims having risen by two overnight, grabbing the killer’s attention more forcefully in an attempt to distract him from his list would now have to be Emma and Killian’s main priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little bit shorter than usual, just moving the plot along a little with some more focus on the case!  
> Thanks once again to Irene & Victoria for the ongoing cheerleading and encouragement, and to Randee, Krystal & Sophie for the flailing reviews after each chapter. You guys all keep me going. My muse thanks you endlessly.


	10. Chapter 10

****There was nothing more frustrating to Emma than feeling like she was stuck on the outside of her own case, waiting patiently for tidbits and updates. Patience wasn’t really her thing. As soon as David had finished filling them in, over speakerphone, on the newest victims and what they knew so far, they hung up and Emma began pacing the kitchen. Killian studied the notes he’d taken as David had given them all the details, glancing up and watching Emma pace for a moment before focusing back on the hurriedly scribbled words in his own neat cursive.

“Why did he kill the husband this time too? Is he spiralling? Or was it planned? Has his MO changed? And if it has...why? How long will it take Belle to send us what she has on the newest vics?”

Emma mused out loud, a frown of concentration creasing her forehead, as she turned and directed her last question to Killian.

“She’s lightening fast on that computer, so the minute she finds anything, I’m sure she’ll send it over to our phones. I could do with looking at these crime scene photos on the computer, rather than on this little screen. Upstairs?”

Killian gestured toward the hallway, and Emma nodded, immediately heading toward the study upstairs where both of their laptops had found a home. As frustrating as it was not to be right in the thick of it at the station, focusing on the case again felt good and much more within Emma’s comfort zone...instead of being distracted by the lingering tensions between herself and Killian.

Once he’d booted up his encrypted, super-secure, fancy FBI-issued laptop, Killian pulled up the crime scene photos and the first files of information about the victims that Belle had sent through while they’d loaded everything up. Emma leaned forward to rest her elbows on the desk, a frown on her face as she squinted and inspected the graphic photos on the screen. There was nothing she could see that jumped out as being a marker of a frenzied, badly planned attack.

The same signatures were present - photos turned face-down and the female victim’s heart removed with slightly more finesse now that the unsub was becoming more practiced with his rudimentary and inelegant surgical skills. But aside from the additional victim, the only male victim claimed thus far, there didn’t seem to be anything glaringly obvious that was convincing them that the secondary victim had been an improvisation or that the unsub was spiralling.

Opening one of the secure files Belle had sent, Killian scanned the information and pointed out to Emma one thing that stood out to him immediately.

“Male vic had a trip planned next weekend. He would’ve been out of town for a few days, just like the previous victim’s husbands. If he’s observing his victims and learning their routines, he’d likely know about that trip. Which begs the question...did he alter his original plan with this couple? Did he initially plan to take out the wife the same way he did in every other instance, while her husband was away, but then decided to change his own plan in order to take out the husband too? And if so...why?”

Emma chewed on her bottom lip, reading and rereading the words on the screen as she put her brain into gear to try and come up with an explanation. But she could only come up with more questions.

“And we don’t have any evidence that the husband even knew his wife had been pregnant. The crime scene photos seem to suggest he was shot while he slept, no signature or arrangement of the body, and no obvious trophies taken from him. He doesn’t seem to have had beef with the husband, so why not wait til he knows the guy will be out of town, like he did with the other women?”

Before they had chance to try and figure out answers to their questions, the doorbell rang. Emma and Killian exchanged perplexed glances and Killian password-locked the laptop before following a cautious Emma toward the door.

“Are we expecting anyone? David didn’t say he’d bring anything over in person, did he?”

Emma asked as they headed downstairs, eyeing the front door warily. Killian shook his head and had half a mind to draw his gun from its holster, but thought better of that instinct as Emma looked to him and reached for the door handle.

He was glad he hadn’t been so hasty as Emma pulled open the door and they were greeted by the smiling faces of their extra-friendly neighbors.

“Hey, newbies!” Aurora beamed, brandishing a plate of cookies, “We thought we’d pop round and see how you’re settling in! I baked you these peanut butter, banana and oatmeal cookies” She thrust the plate into Emma’s hands, “They’re vegan, gluten-free and totally organic. Oh, and the oatmeal is homemade!”

“Uh...thanks,” Emma said, not daring to glance at Killian for fear that she’d burst out laughing like they had after their first encounter with their quirky neighbors, “We’re settling in pretty well, yeah-”

“Oh, good! I’m making pot roast tonight and it’s always _such_ a hit at the Neighborhood Association barbecue. We were hoping you’d join us for dinner?”

Emma felt herself tense up, desperately trying to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why ‘tonight just isn’t a good night’, but before she had the chance to blurt out the world’s lamest excuse, Killian was stepping in.

“We’d love to,” he grinned, and Emma practically gawped at him in horror, “I make a mean potato salad, so we’ll bring that along, if you’d like?”

Emma swore Aurora was openly swooning over Killian and his potato salad-making skills, while her smiling, chino-wearing husband stood right beside her. But instead of rolling her eyes like she was so tempted to do, she simply offered a tight smile and nodded, silently planning the quickest and least messy way to murder Killian the second the neighbors had left.

“Wonderful! It’ll be so nice to get to know you both. How does 6:30pm sound?”

“Excellent!”

At that moment, Emma’s cell phone began to ring and she held back the urge to heave a sigh of relief and mutter _‘saved by the bell’_. Giving her best attempt at an apologetic smile, Emma pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and glanced at the screen. David’s caller ID flashed up at her.

“I’m sorry, work is calling me. I have to take this. We’ll see you tonight?”

Philip gave her a thumbs up and Aurora nodded and smiled.

“Thanks for the cookies, love!”

Killian gestured to the plate Emma was still stood awkwardly holding balanced on one hand with her phone in the other. He waved as Aurora and Philip made their way back over to their own house and shut the door behind them while Emma answered her phone and shoved the plate of cookies into Killian’s hands.

“You have perfect timing,” Emma said tersely, walking through to the kitchen and putting David on speakerphone, “You gave us an easy out from the _very_ friendly neighbors who just showed up on the doorstep with some hipster mom cookies.”

David made a sound of confusion before chuckling at her explanation.

“Glad to be of service. But I was just calling because I forgot to remind you before about the public dinner thing Graham is so intent on pushing. Especially with the latest victims racking up this guy’s body count.”

“Public dinner thing?”

Emma repeated, a blank look on her face as she stared at the phone. Killian winced. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about Graham’s suggestion, but there hadn’t really been a good time to bring it up to her yet, between the awkward tension and the distress caused by her confrontation with Neal. He knew they needed to focus back on the case and going out in public and dinner with neighbors were part and parcel of that. They’d been distracted as they tried to adjust to their new, temporary living situation, but they had to put whatever was between them on the back burner as best they could, and he knew that. It was just easier said than done.

“I haven’t talked to her about it yet, David. That’s my fault.”

“Talked to me about what? I _really_ don’t like being in the dark about anything to do with my own damn case.”

She scowled, hands on her hips and shoulders squared as she shifted her glare between the phone and Killian.

“It was just something Graham had suggested the other day. It was more of a passing thought than a demand. He thinks - well, I suppose we both do, considering I’m the unit chief and I agree with him - that we need to have a more public presence. Catch the unsub’s eye and put ourselves firmly under his radar. And if he then gets his hands on our planted file at the group home, it’ll seal the deal.”

Killian could see her mulling it over, the glare softening into something more contemplative as she silently acknowledged that what he was saying made sense.

“Fine. Public appearances - check. But smartass here signed us up for dinner with our cripplingly suburban neighbors tonight, so let’s survive that first.”

After that, David briefly ran through a summary of the files Belle had sent them, admitted that he and Graham had asked the exact same questions they had, and then wished them luck for their bonding night with the neighbors. Emma rolled her eyes and sarcastically thanked him, before hanging up and turning to face Killian, frown creasing her forehead.

“Okay, why the fuck did you sign us up for a dinner date tonight? We have _work_ to do, Killian. We have files to go over and-”

“And this _is_ part of our _work_ , Emma,” he sighed, “Making the world think we’re some normal, happy couple is a big part of this job. And we have to get it over with sooner or later, so we may as well do it tonight and then get back to the paperwork side of things. Graham and the team are already going over those files and they have a lot more resources than we do here. Our main priority right now is getting that bastard’s attention and the way we do that is by putting ourselves out there more. We’re not going to catch his eye sitting around the house, twiddling our thumbs and simply waiting for him to take the bait with our planted file.”

Emma’s shoulders sagged and she ran a hand through her hair, nodding slowly.

“You’re right. I’m...sorry for snapping at you. It’s just...the idea of playing this part under scrutiny from some couple who seem like they stepped right out of a Black Mirror episode...it scares the shit outta me. People like them have always looked down their nose at me and now I have to act like I’m one of them. It’s harder than I thought it was gonna be…”

“I’ll be right beside you. If you don’t want to talk much, or you’re uncomfortable, just squeeze my hand under the table and I’ll take the reins. We can just say you’re under the weather, exhausted from the move, or dealing with some stressful things at work if they pick up on your discomfort. But I doubt they will. You’ll be better at faking it than you realize.”

“Yeah,” she mused with a grimace, “I’ve done _that_ enough times to be convincing.”

Killian’s eyebrows shot up and she quickly shut her mouth, her cheeks heating up.

“I-uh...said that out loud, huh…”

He suppressed a smirk and nodded, watching her with an earnest expression.

“Not with me though…right?”

Emma rolled her eyes and delivered a weak punch to his shoulder, muttering _‘oh, shut up’_ and moving to brush past him, but he stopped her with a gentle grasp of her wrist. His expression was serious and much too vulnerable for her liking. She looked down at his fingers against her pulse, which had skipped at the unexpected touch and was now drumming away faster than usual under his fingertips. She wondered absently if he could feel it.

“No,” she said softly, “Not with you. That was all real.”

He let go of her wrist then and she didn’t have to lift her gaze to know he was smiling. But she did anyway, meeting his eyes and reluctantly breaking the moment between them by canting her head to the stairs.

“I should, uh...shower and change. And you should get making that _mean potato salad_ you promised the vegan, everything-free ‘cookie’ making soccer mom next door.”

He chuckled and reached up to scratch his ear before giving her a soldier salute and turning toward the refrigerator while she made her way upstairs. Perhaps they wouldn’t do so badly pretending to be a smitten, happy couple, Emma mused a few minutes later as she stood under the hot spray of the shower...because maybe some of it wouldn’t be hard to fake at all.

* * *

  _ **CS**_

* * *

 When 6:30pm rolled around, Emma found herself tugging nervously at the sleeves of her black and white striped off-the-shoulder shirt. She hated to admit how long she’d spent decided what to wear. She really didn’t want to care what two strangers thought of her, yet a part of her wanted to feel like she belonged in their world, somehow. She’d always been an outsider to their seemingly charmed way of life, and she’d envied the kids she’d gone to school with who had parents like Aurora and Philip.

She’d eventually decided on black, high-waisted skinny jeans, which she’d tucked her striped shirt into, and slipped on reasonably high-heeled black shoes. She left her hair down, curling it into loose beachy waves and letting it fall delicately over her bare shoulders. Killian had opted for well-fitting black jeans and a brown belt (like Emma really needed to be distracted by his ass anymore than she already was), a white shirt with the top three buttons left open (because apparently the man had an inability to totally cover his chest, not that Emma would admit to noticing that fact) and a simple black suit jacket, along with brown leather Oxfords..

When Emma emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, more make-up on than she usually went for, she had to consciously hold back her instinct to give a low whistle. He looked good enough to eat, with his hair artfully mussed and just enough aftershave to make her want to lean in closer.

His reaction to her wasn’t quite as reined in, and he swallowed hard, eyes unashamedly travelling the length of her and making her want to clench her thighs together with the rush of heat that shot up her spine.

“Bloody hell…”

He mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red. She remembered him having the same reaction to her wearing a sundress, and how she’d been flustered and retreated. This time, she pushed down the fluttering of nerves and stepped closer to him, suddenly feeling just a little bit unsteady on her heels.

“You scrub up pretty well…”

She said quietly, looking up at him from under mascaraed lashes. She watched as his pupils dilated with her closer proximity, and she couldn’t help but enjoy the effect she was clearly having on him. A part of her brain was telling her to stop playing with fire, and that it wasn’t fair to either of them to flirt at this precarious stage of their ‘ _unrelationship_ ’, but she couldn’t deny being drawn to him.

“And you...look breathtaking. Fucking hell, Emma…”

He was looking down at her, eyes focused on her lips, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. But instead, he clenched his jaw and stepped back, putting more space between them.

“We...should go. Don’t want to keep the neighbors waiting. I have a feeling they aren’t fans of tardiness.”

“Mmm,” Emma mumbled, still watching him carefully, “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable just now. I was just trying to be a bit less bitchy and serious than I have been for most of this week. And uh...trying to get into the role I’m supposed to be playing.”

Killian regarded her for a moment, his flustered moment seeming to have passed and his face softening. He stepped closer to her again, lifting a hand to gently tuck some errant curls back behind her ear. Emma sucked in a sharp breath at the unexpected touch, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as his fingers lingered against her skin.

“You haven’t made me uncomfortable, love. But I find it extremely hard to fight my urge to kiss you seven ways from Sunday when you’re looking like that and flirting with me. That’s all. I’m trying to be a gentleman and you’re making it very difficult...”

Emma swallowed thickly, her eyes locked on his lips as he spoke in a low tone, little electric sparks of desire prickling under her skin. The tension between them was so thick she was sure they could cut it with a knife, and her heart was thundering so loud she was sure he could probably hear it.

They remained locked in a heated stare until Killian dropped his hand from her cheek and broke eye contact on a shaky exhale.

“Let’s get going, Swan.”

He said softly, and Emma was a little grateful hearing that his voice was as unsteady as she felt. He led the way downstairs and she concentrated on each step, acutely aware of the fact that her legs felt like jello and not wishing to fall down the stairs and make a complete fool out of herself.

Killian paused at the front door, and Emma frowned in confusion. He turned to face her then and suddenly she found herself pressed up against the hallway wall, his hands framing her cheeks and his lips pressed against hers before she could process what was happening. She melted into him, her entire body feeling like it had been set ablaze, her hands finding his belt loops and tugging him flush against her. He groaned into her mouth and she shuddered at the sound, welcoming his tongue as it touched her own and deepened their kiss.

It only lasted a matter of heated seconds, but when they broke apart, his forehead resting against hers and his hands against her neck, they were both breathing heavily, hearts racing in tandem.

“Fuck…”

She mumbled, her lust-fogged brain unable to come up with anything more articulate. He chuckled and the sound went straight to her core, making her trembling fingers tighten momentarily where they remained hooked through his belt loops. It also drew her awareness right back to the hardened area of his anatomy that was still pressed firmly against her stomach...

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice husky, “I just...I wouldn’t have been able to sit through an entire evening and concentrate on anything but the thought of kissing you otherwise.”

He stepped back then, and Emma swept her tongue over her bottom lip, the taste of him lingering and making her feel light-headed.

“An impromptu hallway makeout session sounds like a reasonable excuse a married couple might have for being late to a dinner party.”

Emma quipped, still breathless and knowing her cheeks were probably equally as flushed as Killian’s were. He grinned at her then, nodding toward the kitchen as he suddenly remembered that potato salad offering he'd promised, quickly retrieving it before pulling open the door and gesturing for her to go first. As they walked down their driveaway, Killian caught her hand in his, and Emma tried not to think too much about how surprisingly comfortable and natural it felt to hold his hand and slip fully into the role of his adoring wife.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

 “So, how did you guys meet? I bet you’ve got an adorable meet-cute story!”

Aurora had launched right into the Spanish Inquisition as soon as they’d all sat down at the table, shovelling a large helping of her vegan version of pot-roast onto Emma and Killian’s plates as she beamed at them.

“Uh, well, nothing too exciting. We met Freshman year of college. Had a class together and we got paired up. I thought he was a pain in the ass at first, but he grew on me.”

She turned to smile at her fake husband, and he returned her adoring look as Aurora swooned and poured them generous measures of red wine. Neither of them were really wine drinkers but Emma thanked her and took a sip just to be polite.

“Well, that’s not strictly true love,” Killian smirked, and Emma tried her best not to look startled, “I distinctly remember that we met before that, when I accidentally scared you in the library a few days before class started. You instinctively whacked me over the head with a rather large psychology textbook. I swear to this day that you gave me a concussion with that thing, but all you had to say was ‘well, you shouldn’t have snuck up on me like that, asshat!’ and I swear I was smitten with you from that moment onwards.”

Aurora and Philip were laughing and Emma couldn’t help but smile and roll her eyes at him. She’d thought she’d messed up their pre-planned answer, but it turned out that Killian was just intent on improvising and adding his own extra little details into their story.

“What about you two?”

Emma asked quickly, grateful for the opportunity to turn to the topic away from herself and Killian. Philip chuckled.

“I actually saved her life. She was engrossed in conversation with a friend and almost stepped out in front of a car. I very gracelessly tackled the poor girl and got myself a few very fetching bruises, but when I looked at her, I realized I’d saved the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life.”

Philip was gazing lovingly at Aurora then and she batted his arm coyly.

“Oh, stop,” she giggled, turning back to Emma and Killian, “He loves telling the story of how he was my knight in shining armor.”

Emma tried her best not to grimace, knowing the idea of Aurora identifying as some Disney type princess really shouldn’t surprise her. She was sure she was nice enough, but Emma knew she’d never fit in with Aurora and her crowd. She was too rough around the edges and restless to ever feel comfortable as a traditional, 1950s style housewife, but a little part of her envied the woman for her apparent contentment with her chosen role.

“So, you were college sweethearts then? That’s so cute. Philip and I got married about two months after we met, and we’ve never looked back. It sounds quick, but I guess when you know you’ve met the one...you just _know_ , right?”

She leaned in then and kissed Philip, nuzzling her nose against his and Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Casting a sidelong glance at Killian, she saw him reach for his wine glass and take a deep swig, and she knew she wasn’t the only one counting down the minutes til their dinner date was over.

Finally, Aurora moved back into her own space and turned her attention back to her guests. Emma focused her gaze on the food in front of her and moved it around on her plate with her fork, just to give her hands something to do and avoid having to make eye contact. But that didn’t deter Aurora.

“When did you guys get married?”

“Three years ago.”

Emma answered immediately, not offering any elaboration or cute story to go along with it. But once again, their host was unfazed.

“And this is the first house you’ve bought together? Have you lived together before?”

“Uh...we...had an apartment. In the city. We moved in together at the end of our Sophomore year.”

That was an answer they hadn’t talked through, but Emma’s improvisation skills were rather good, and Killian nodded along, adding his own embellishments to her story.

“Aye, it was the best option financially - Boston is _not_ cheap, as we all know - but I’d been hoping to take that next step and ask her to move in with me. Emma beat me to it. I think I remember her exact words were ‘I need a roomie cos rent in this city is a joke, and you’re the person I can tolerate the most, so...wanna move in with me?’ and _how_ could I say no to such a hopelessly romantic offer like that?”

Killian chuckled and once again Aurora and Philip were laughing. Emma shook her head and rolled her eyes, despite the genuine smile on her face. Even though their history together was nothing but a pretty fiction, Emma found herself easily able to believe in it, able to believe that it was realistic enough that part of her _wished_ it was real. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so emotionally crippled if she’d had someone like Killian come into her life before she’d been irreparably damaged.

Taking a bite of her dinner, Emma tried to swallow down those thoughts and squash them. They were dangerous territory and she needed to stay focused. This was, after all, a job. _Just_ a job.

“You two are so adorable. You should come to the Neighborhood Association Barbecue next month!”

Killian made a non-committal noise that Aurora took as agreement and Emma remained quiet, pretending to enjoy the meat-free pot roast to avoid seeming rude. But for someone who had generally survived on a diet of processed food and excessive sugar, the amount of vegetables on her plate was off-putting, to say the least.

“So, you’ve been married for three years and you have a beautiful home now, in a _great_ school district...when are you planning to have a baby?”

Emma choked on the mouthful of Portobello mushroom she’d just taken a bite of, and reached for her glass of wine as her eyes watered. Killian cleared his throat and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, buying time as he tried to formulate a diplomatic answer that would appease a likely-conservative, clearly-traditional suburban couple.

“Well, uh...we-”

“-had a baby. When we were still in school. We put him up for adoption.”

Emma cut in. Killian stared at her in surprise, but quickly recovered when she subtly squeezed his thigh under the table, a silent “trust me on this”. And he did. Following her lead, he schooled his face into one of mild sorrow, placing his hand on Emma’s arm in a gesture of support.

Aurora and Philip were stunned into silence, the air suddenly very tense. Emma continued.

“We were barely at the end of our Freshman year and we just _couldn’t_ give a baby the life he deserved. So we made a decision to see the pregnancy through, and hope that the family who took him would give him the kind of life two eighteen year olds couldn’t.”

Emma downed the rest of the wine then, not enjoying the tart flavor or the acidic taste it left behind, but needing the liquid courage.

“Aye, it was...very difficult,” Killian added softly, his hand now covering Emma’s on the table and squeezing gently, “But it was his best chance. We weren’t in the position then that we are now, with good jobs and a comfortable lifestyle.”

“I suppose not,” Aurora replied quietly, clearly struggling to empathize with them, and stood up suddenly, “I should clear the dishes.”

She swept the plates away and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Philip to awkwardly fumble for a lighter topic of conversation and avoiding mentioning his wife’s lack of tact. Killian leaned back in his chair and hummed in response to Philip’s rambling about baseball and football, and his preferences between the two.

Emma knotted her fingers together in her lap, feeling once again like her position as an eternal outsider to the Perfect Suburban Life Club had been solidified. She’d purposefully revealed their adoption story to Aurora, and even though it wasn’t the whole truth, it still felt as though she’d bared a little of her soul to strangers who had formerly wanted to double-date to the Neighborhood Association Barbecue, only to be immediately judged and rejected.

It didn’t take long for Killian to guide them effortlessly into goodbyes, and they made their escape within ten minutes of Aurora’s cold shoulder. The second they got back inside their own house, the door firmly shut behind them, Emma deflated with relief, kicking her heels off and padding into the kitchen to grab a much-needed beer..

“Thank God that’s over.”

She sighed, pulling two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and popping the caps before handing one bottle to Killian. He gratefully accepted, taking a long drag from the bottle while shrugging off his jacket.

“I was surprised when you brought up the adoption thing so readily…”

Killian started, his words carefully measured. He was eyeing her cautiously, trying to figure her out while following her through to their prefered living room.

“Well, it kinda hit me...what better way for word to get around town about a perfect little suburban couple giving a kid up for adoption, than telling the town gossip? I bet you twenty bucks that the entire town knows within a few days. And maybe, if we’re lucky, it might even catch the unsub’s attention…”

“You are bloody brilliant.”

Killian muttered, shaking his head in amazement at her smart, strategic thinking. He’d been able to see that Aurora’s immediate change in demeanor and very obvious disapproval had made Emma shrink into herself a little bit, once more facing a rejection because of something in her past, but she’d still managed to maintain her role.

Emma gave him a small smile, dropping down heavily onto the sofa and reaching for the remote, taking another swig of her beer.

“Now, I guess, we just wait a few days and let her run off and tell all her little housewife friends about us and our dirty little secret. And we can chill and watch Netflix.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hereby hold Irene (@Katerine_Swann on Twitter, @peggyyswan on Tumblr) fully accountable for that kiss happening. I was in two minds about including it, or leaving it with them resisting one another. But Irene wanted it, so Irene got it. Go scream your thanks/freak outs at her (she'll love it).  
> Yet again, thanks to that above demonchild for being my beta and soundboard, and for keeping my muse in nice things. Also thanks to Marta for the consistently INCREDIBLE essay reviews that make me want to weep with joy, and to Victoria, Tana, Michele & Krystal for fangirling over update teases. You give me warm fuzzies every single time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-warning: This one is LONG. It's got a bit of everything too - angst, humor and a little dash of steaminess ;)  
> (And 5 points to anyone who spots the little nod to canon dialogue!)

****It was pitch black. All Emma could hear was her own heavy breathing and her heartbeat, thundering in her ears. It was deafening. With fear prickling along every nerve ending in her body, making her feel like a live wire, she whimpered softly and tried calling out into the dark.

“Please,” she cried, her voice cracking, “Please let me go.”

“Why would I do that? I thought you _wanted_ me to come back for you, Em? You waited years til you finally realized you weren’t _worth_ waiting around for. And now I’m here. I thought you’d be _happy_.”

Even in the dark, with nothing but Neal’s voice echoing around her, she could _hear_ his sneer. She pulled her knees closer to her body, trying to make herself impossibly smaller as she sat shivering on the cold, stone floor.

“And now your secret is out, and everyone knows how _useless_ and fucked up you really are. Never even held your own son. The one person who might have actually been able to love you. But no. You sent him away, discarded him like trash-”

“No! That’s not...I-I didn’t-”

“That’s why you don’t deserve anything, Em. You suffered through the system and then you put your own flesh and blood through the same. Look…”

Suddenly, there was light. She shielded her eyes for a moment, blinded by the sudden burst of brightness chasing away the dark. When she squinted towards it, she saw a window. And behind the glass, an audience of faces, every one of which she recognized. They were staring at her with expressions that ranged from blank indifference to disgust. Some looked away. David, Mary Margaret, Will and Ruby. Aurora and Philip. Killian.

Emma sobbed, her heart aching as Killian kept his gaze turned down, not meeting hers. He couldn’t stand to look at her.

“They all know what you did now. They all know why you’ve always been alone. Unwanted, unlovable...even your own parents didn’t want you. Tossed you out like trash, just like you did to your own child.”

“Stop, please...stop. I loved him-”

A stinging slap to her cheek stole her breath and made her squeeze her eyes shut. She wanted to stand up to him. To scream in his face that he was _wrong_ , that she wanted to keep her child more than _anything_ , but she _couldn’t_. She wanted to make him and all those people behind the glass believe her when she said she’d just wanted to give him his best chance. But her body felt so weak, so heavy and reluctant under the weight of her own shame.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have put me into the system too.”

A child’s voice had her head snapping up, her eyes wide as she saw the little boy stood in front of the window now, on the inside of the room, his brown eyes boring into her, unblinking. Emma whimpered, unable to look away. She’d imagined so many times what her son might look like now. He’d be ten years old, and she wished she had even just a single memory of him to hold onto. But she’d never even held him; never seen his face or had any memories of his tiny hand grasping her finger to pull her through her darkest days.

Sobbing, Emma reached out to him, whispering wrecked apologies and pleas of forgiveness. But he turned away...

_“Emma!”_

With a gasp, Emma opened her eyes. The room was gone. Neal, her disapproving audience, her son, all gone. And instead she was staring up into the worried face of Killian, his hand gripping her shoulder and gently shaking as he leaned over her.

“Emma...it’s alright, love. It was just a bad dream, it wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

Her cheeks were wet with tears, and she was shivering, chest heaving with sobs as awareness of where she was finally seeped back to her.

“It wasn’t real…”

She whispered, trying to convince herself, still breathing hard, and Killian let go of her shoulder. He reached up to brush her tears away tenderly.

“No, it wasn’t real, I promise. Whatever it was, it was just a nightmare. You’re okay. Shhh.”

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, parts of her dream echoing in her head. The subsiding sobs caught in her throat, as her heart finally started to slow down and Killian watched her carefully, concern in his tired eyes. Once he was satisfied that she’d settled, he lay back down on his side facing her, head propped up by his elbow.

“Do you want to talk about it, Swan?”

He asked softly, and she shook her head. After a moment, she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

He frowned at her words, reaching forward with his free hand to thumb at the dimple in her chin.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he paused, “Perhaps you might allow me to hold you? That seemed like one hell of a nightmare...”

Emma hesitated, her mind flashing back to his face in her dream, the way he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. But here he was, never taking his eyes off her and asking to hold her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, turning on her side to face him and shuffling closer, so that he could wrap her in an embrace.

With his arms around her, she lifted her head to meet his gaze, her own still glittering with tears.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

She asked, voice barely more than a whisper. He looked down at her, face serious, and held her gaze for a long moment.

“I have a feeling kindness has been all too rare in your life, darling. And perhaps I see past all those walls you put up to protect this.”

He moved his arm from around her, to tap gently on her chest, right above her heart. She broke their gaze, but he lifted her chin and offered her a small smile before continuing.

“I don’t know how to answer your question, really, love. Because I don’t have a reason, other than that I care about you, and...well, I like you. I wish more than anything that you could see what I see when I look at you, Emma. And that maybe one day you’ll stop being surprised to find out that someone cares for you without needing a _reason_ other than that they just _do_.”

He sighed, pulling her closer and holding her tight, his heart aching for the woman in his arms who was both incredibly strong and incredibly broken at the same time. He felt Emma relax in his arms, bit by bit, and gently stroked abstract patterns across her back, listening to her breathing beginning to even out.

She’d never been a cuddler, never thought she’d ever be able to sleep wrapped in someone’s arms, and she expected to feel slightly awkward and uncomfortable as she lay facing him, her head tucked under his and his arms around her. But she didn’t. Instead, as she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head and sigh softly into her hair, she only found herself wanting to cuddle closer into his warmth, no longer shivering, with a peaceful, dreamless sleep claiming her soon after. 

* * *

  _ **CS**_

* * *

Emma awoke to an empty bed and the smell of coffee. Stretching to wake up her tired body, she felt like she’d barely slept at all, with the emotional exhaustion of her nightmare a few hours earlier still weighing heavily. She reluctantly threw back the covers with a jaw-cracking yawn and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to force herself to wake up properly before she ventured downstairs.

Padding into the kitchen, barefoot and wearing blue and white plaid pyjama shorts and a grey sweatshirt she’d pulled on over her white vest top, Emma found Killian at the stove, engrossed in his task of cooking breakfast. He was, as per usual, minus a shirt. But she really couldn’t find it in her to disapprove of that fact.

“Are we preparing to host a party of Romanian powerlifters for breakfast? Because I didn’t get that memo.”

Emma quipped, surveying the arrangement of breakfast foods on the counter. Killian spun around, pan in-hand, surprised by her sudden appearance, and followed her gaze to the food. He chuckled, and if he didn’t have a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, she knew he would’ve been reaching up to scratch his ear in that adorably endearing way of his.

“Well, I thought after your...unsettled night, you might like a nice, hearty breakfast…”

Grabbing a waffle from a plate piled high with them, Emma took a bite and rounded the counter to Killian. After finishing the mouthful, she smiled up at him before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. He blushed and her smile widened, amused that a kiss on the cheek could make this man blush, even after everything else they’d previously done together.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “For this, and for...last night. I uh...I haven’t had a nightmare like that in quite a few years.”

Killian pulled the pan off the stove and set it aside, before focusing his full attention on Emma.

“If you want to talk about it, you know I’m here. You...you were crying and thrashing about, and you said-” he broke eye contact and cleared his throat, “You said you were sorry, and that you ‘loved him’. I couldn’t wake you at first; you must have been in a really deep sleep.”

“It was my son,” she admitted, swallowing thickly, “I was...it was a nightmare and I’ve had a similar one hundreds of times. I guess talking about the adoption yesterday brought some things back for me. I’ve never talked about it before, not to anyone. Kinda a big thing to repress, I guess.”

She turned to the counter then, her appetite waning as her little boy’s voice in her head from her nightmare came back to her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sighed.

“You know that whatever your son says to you in those nightmares, it’s not real, Swan. It’s your own guilty conscience, but you have _nothing_ to feel guilty for. You did everything in your power to give your child the best opportunity. You made a selfless, heartbreaking choice, and I hope one day you’ll see it that way too.”

Emma grimaced, and she didn’t resist when Killian pulled her into his arms, holding her just like he had the night before. She let him, resting her head on his chest while trying to block out Neal’s voice telling her she didn’t deserve any of this.

They were broken out of their moment by the doorbell and Emma frowned, pulling back and giving Killian a perplexed look. It was only 8:30am, and they certainly weren’t expecting any visitors.

“Must be those Romanian powerlifters. They heard I make fantastic pancakes.”

Killian joked, and Emma rolled her eyes at him before heading for the front door. Glancing through the peephole, she groaned.

“Who is it?”

Killian asked, having followed her into the hallway. Emma turned to face him, clearly stalling in answering the door to their visitor.

“It’s Martha Stewart from next door,” she grumbled, “Do you think she’s ‘popped over’ to give us an hour-long slideshow presentation on why we’re terrible people for giving up a child? Or maybe it’ll be about the dangers of sex before marriage and why we’re going to hell.”

Killian bit his lip, suppressing a chuckle and shaking his head as she pulled open the door with a tight smile.

“Aurora.”

Emma said flatly, unable to bring herself to dole out pleasantries to the woman who had so cooly looked down her nose at them less than twenty-four hours ago. Aurora looked uncomfortable on their front porch, shifting her weight from foot to foot and fidgeting with the hem of her pink cardigan.

“Hi, Emma. I just...uhm, could I possibly…come in for a couple moments? I won’t keep you, I just wanted to...speak with you. About last night.”

Emma hesitated, wanting to forget about the disastrous dinner and the fact that it had triggered Emma’s first nightmare in years. But Aurora looked so forlorn that she relented.

“I guess.”

She muttered, clearly reluctant as she stepped back and gestured for Aurora to enter. When their prim and proper neighbor caught sight of a shirtless Killian stood in the hallway, her cheeks immediately flushed bright red and she averted her gaze, as though just laying her eyes on the bare chest of another woman’s husband could be considered an act of unfaithfulness to her own. Emma just about resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Please, come through. Take a seat.”

Killian motioned toward the first living room, the one they didn’t use. Aurora ducked her head and mumbled her thanks as she haltingly stepped toward one of the sofas, hesitating for a moment and then perching stiffly on the edge of one.

“You have a beautiful home-”

“What is it you wanted to talk about?”

Emma cut her off, not interested in any inane small talk. She got right down to business instead, trying to curb her instinct of going into ‘cop mode’, as Will called it. She padded across the rug and dropped down onto one of the comfy chairs, folding her legs under her and staring at Aurora expectantly. The young woman wilted nervously under her gaze.

“Well...I just...I wanted to apologize, for the way I behaved last night,” she sighed, hands twisting restlessly in her lap, and Emma raised an eyebrow but remained silent so she continued, “I didn’t react very well when you...told us about your past. And I’m sorry for that; it was rude and unfair of me. It’s just...well, babies are, I guess, a bit of a sore subject for us…”

“You’re the one who brought up the subject of babies.”

Emma shot back, her guard still up where their neighbors were concerned. Aurora grimaced.

“I know. And I had no right to take out my personal issues on you, and treat you that way. I’m really sorry I behaved how I did, Emma. I...I lost a baby recently. We’d been trying for a long time, and we were so happy when it finally happened. But I lost it, and it’s caused...a lot of problems between Philip and I. He wanted to stop, at least for a little while, because of the stress of trying and the strain it was putting on our relationship. But I wanted to try again. We almost.... _separated_ over it,” she looked scandalized at that prospect before sighing, shoulders slumping, “It’s still a sore subject for us, but that doesn’t mean I had any right to treat you so coldly.”

Emma worried her bottom lip, feeling a stab of sympathy for the woman sat rambling nervously on her sofa, but she had a feeling Aurora had been bottling up the issues she and her husband had faced behind closed doors for awhile now, and the floodgates had seemingly opened.

“You did what was right for you, and for your baby. I do respect that, contrary to how I behaved last night. I just...well, I guess it was a surprise to hear you speak so easily of giving up a child, and my instinctive reaction was to resent you, and to feel jealous and upset that you’d had something I’d wanted for so long, but you’d thrown it away-”

“I did _not_ throw him away,” Emma cut in, her voice shrill and sharp even to her own ears, her chest constricting painfully, and Aurora looked up at her in alarm, “Giving up my son was _the_ hardest decision I’ve _ever_ made. And I think about him every damn day. So if you’re _jealous_ of me for that, then you have some real issues to work through, lady. Because I wouldn’t wish that impossible choice on anyone.”

The room was plunged into tense silence, Killian watching Emma carefully from where he stood on the other side of the room. Struggling to compose herself and squash down her warring emotions while simultaneously fighting back tears that she refused to let fall, Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and stared down at her hands in her lap.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that…” Aurora said quietly, clearly ashamed, “I’m sorry for what you guys went through, I really am. And I wanted to apologize for being such a terrible host and treating you badly last night, but it seems I’ve only made things worse.”

Emma clenched her jaw, the flames of her hurt and anger subsiding. She eyed Aurora with her anguished expression, and sighed, shaking her head.

“It’s alright. I accept your apology. But maybe you should put yourself into someone else’s shoes before you go judging them. Most women who give up kids don’t take that decision lightly. And they sure as hell don’t do it to slight women who struggle to have kids. If you resent people who give up their babies, why not take in one of those unwanted kids? You could have what those women are ‘throwing away’, if you wanted to.”

Aurora nodded, her head hanging in shame.

“I really am sorry for phrasing it like that. I suppose I put my mouth into gear before my brain,” she tittered nervously, “And you’re right about what you said...about not judging people. I guess it just becomes so... _normal_ when you live in a little community like this one. Because that’s what everyone does. And no one wants to be the main topic of whispered conversations at the Neighborhood Association barbecue!”

Emma stared at her blankly, and she visibly deflated, once again toying with the hem of her cardigan. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.

“Everyone seems so perfect here and you feel as though you have to fit in with that. I had this dream of us moving in and having a few children, going to their Little League games and being the perfect family. Everyone is always asking us when we’re going to have a baby...but you’re the first ones I’ve told the truth to. I just downplay it with everyone else, because not being able to...well, you can’t have a perfect family if you can’t even have a baby.”

Emma frowned, shaking her head. She’d felt like an outsider to those who lived in quaint suburban communities her entire life, and yet here was a woman who seemed to fit _perfectly_ into their idea of perfect...and yet behind closed doors, she felt like just as much of an outsider as Emma did. The apparent Stepford Wife exterior belied a somewhat-neurotic young woman who, despite outward appearances, seemed to be just as broken in many ways as Emma herself. They may have been worlds apart, but fundamentally they weren’t all that different.

It made Emma stop for a moment and think about the way she saw herself. Aurora looked, for all intents and purposes, to be the epitome of the American Dream. Yet inside, and behind the large oak doors of her beautiful home, she battled with her own insecurities and tribulations, seeing herself as coming up short when it came to fitting in with the people around her. And she’d closed herself off, choosing not to open up to them for fears of being found lacking.

How many times had Emma done the exact same thing? How many times had she been unfairly hard on herself for her past circumstances, even those she’d had no say in? And yet, seeing someone else, someone she’d immediately dismissed as a person she couldn’t remotely relate to, getting down on herself for circumstances out of her control, made her stop and reassess the lofty standards she sometimes expected of herself.

After being lost in her own thoughts for long moments, Emma finally snapped out of her reverie.

“You really shouldn’t be so tough on yourself, Aurora. And maybe being like them, and trying to make sure you look perfect on the outside, isn’t worth it at the end of the day. Your happiness doesn’t depend on them, or their opinions of you. And you can bet your ass they’re dealing with shit behind their own closed doors. Because no one is perfect, no matter what front they show to the world.”

Aurora blinked when she cursed, but after a moment she smiled, standing up suddenly and moving closer, awkwardly leaning over and hugging Emma, who made a small sound of surprise and threw Killian a panicked look over Aurora’s shoulder. He folded his arms, chuckling in amusement as he leaned against the dividing wall between the hallway and living room.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Emma, Aurora pulled back, straightening up and smoothing her hands down the front of her pink and white floral print dress.

“Thank you so much, Emma. For accepting my apology over last night and for your advice too. I really will take it to heart. I...I should get going now, I’ve taken up enough of your time. But perhaps at some point you might give me a second chance to host you both for dinner again? I’m glad you’re so different from everyone else around here. And believe me, I mean that in a _good_ way.”

She smiled warmly, heading for the hallway and giving her nervous laugh and blushing again when she passed Killian on her way to the door.

“Bye, lass.”

Killian chuckled, stepping forward to open it for her. She giggled her thanks, and dashed out. After she’d crossed the driveway with a wave, Killian shut the door, and turned to find Emma now leaning against the dividing wall to the living room. She sighed heavily, before shaking her head and giving a short laugh, raising an eyebrow at Killian.

“Well...I never had her pegged for being the Nicole Kidman of Stepford. Maybe I’m not as good a detective as I thought.”

* * *

  _ **CS**_

* * *

For the rest of the day, Emma and Killian systematically worked through all the files Belle had sent them, the notes and charts they made as they went along stuck up onto one wall of the study, while the rest of the papers were laid out across the floor. Emma had sat cross-legged, with coffee, pastries and her scribbled notes scattered around, while Killian took orders from her and offered his own suggestions and ideas, creating a mural of known information and possible lines of questioning. It was as close as they could get to a conference room of their own.

Killian had made enough breakfast foods that morning to keep them going through lunch too, but by the time late afternoon rolled around, they were both starting to feel hungry for something other than bagels, pancakes and waffles. They’d booked a table at a fancy restaurant nearby for that evening, and as much as they were both trying to play it down, the idea of going out on a dinner date while having to pretend it was something they’d been doing for years, was something that they were both a little apprehensive about.

Emma had fortunately packed a few dresses that she’d previously worn on fake dates to lure scumbag bail skips, or for nights when she’d gone out with the sole purpose of finding someone to scratch an itch, but she hadn’t honestly thought she’d need the dresses when she’d been packing for an undercover mission. So now, as she stood in her closet, wearing just a towel after a much-needed hot shower to ease away the crick in her neck from sitting on the floor and poring over files all day, she was truly torn about which dress she should opt for.

“Fuck it.”

She muttered, biting the bullet and making a snap judgement. She hadn’t worn any of the dresses in awhile, but she knew they all still fit her. She just didn’t like the fact that she’d found herself wondering which dress _Killian_ might appreciate the most. She didn’t dress to please anyone else, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder which out of the slinky little numbers that she was struggling to choose between would make his eyes pop out of his head the most.

Scowling, she snatched one of the dresses and hung the others back up. After drying her hair and applying her makeup, leaving her hair down because she _wanted_ to and not because she knew Killian had a bit of a thing for it, she slipped into the sleeveless red dress. It had the added bonus of a built-in bust and a low, scooped back, and it was unforgivingly snug, hugging her curves and emphasizing her flat stomach and the pertness of her behind. It fell to her mid-thigh, leaving her long legs mostly bare while pushing up her breasts just enough to give a tantalizing hint of cleavage without making her feel like she was falling out of it.

She felt sexy as hell in the dress, and she knew that if they wanted to grab their unsub’s attention, this was the outfit that would do it. Toeing on her favorite pair of black heels, she checked her reflection in her closet mirror with a satisfied smile, and walking out into the bedroom.

Killian was sat on the sofa, tying his shoelaces, dressed smartly in dark blue dress pants with a matching jacket over a white shirt. Simple but very effective. As Emma emerged from her walk-in closet, he glanced up and immediately froze, his eyes moving from her shoes and travelling up mile-long legs, over the tight red material clinging to her curves, to finally connect with hers. Her pulse had quickened with his heated perusal, and he seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Are you always gonna have that reaction whenever I wear anything other than yoga pants and a sweatshirt?”

She joked, rolling her eyes, in an effort to pass off the shivers that were running up her spine and the rush of heat settling low in her belly. He quickly finished tying his lace and then stood up, moving until he was just a few inches away from her, and she had to look up to meet his gaze.

She did so, defiantly, doing her best to act unaffected.

“I can’t help that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and that you continually manage to steal my breath, Swan.”

He said quietly, his voice a low rumble that had her swallowing hard.

“Are you gonna shove me against a wall and kiss me again?”

She asked, challenge in her tone, and in her peripheral vision she saw his jaw tick as he tried to rein himself in. They both knew they had a job to do but she was purposefully tormenting him, and if she was being honest, she was tormenting herself too. Because she certainly wouldn’t have turned down a replay of their passionate embrace from the night before.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Emma,” his voice was a harsh whisper, and he leaned in close to her ear, his breath warm on her neck, “I can’t kiss you with our bed a few scant feet away. Because you and I both know we wouldn’t be able to stop with a kiss. I’d have you naked and writhing under me in minutes, begging me to let you come, and we’d forget all about dinner, because the only hunger we’d be able to think about would be the one we have for each other.”

Emma didn’t realize she was panting until he leaned back to look into her eyes, his pupils blown just as she was sure hers were. He was still impossibly close, and she was rendered speechless by his blunt dirty talk.

“I want nothing more than to kiss you and to peel this…” he glanced down, at a perfect angle for a gratuitous view down her cleavage, “...utterly mesmerizing dress from your body; to kiss every inch of you that’s revealed to me. But we have a table booked and you know as well as I do that it’s important we go out.”

He sounded as agonized by his words as she felt, and she nodded numbly, her body feeling like every nerve ending was on fire with desperate need for all the pleasure she knew he could give her. But remembering their job, and the reason they were even going out on this fake date in the first place, was like being doused with a bucket of iced water.

She stepped back, clearing her throat and pretending she wasn’t quite as affected as she was, canting her head toward the door.

“We should get going.”

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

Fine dining was something Emma had never really been able to get her head around. As a kid, ‘dining’ at all had been a luxury some days. So paying insane prices to have a practically empty plate put in front of you...no, it wasn’t really Emma’s scene. And she was already mentally planning what she was going to order from the pizza place once they got home later, when she was inevitably still starving after dessert.

But for now, she was playing the role of a woman who was slightly more accustomed to fine dining, and carefully schooled her face into a passive expression, smiling when the waiter placed her plate down.

“Fresh ahi and kona kampachi tartare topped with tobiko, ma’am.”

The waiter said, as though Emma had the slightest clue what any of that actually meant. She’d barely understood anything on the menu so she’d just pointed at things at random, figuring she’d just have to be surprised. She’d been met with the typical “ah, wonderful choice” from the waiter with everything she’d pointed out, so she guessed she managed to be passably convincing that she was actually comfortable in a such a foreign environment.

“And for you, sir. _Bagna cauda_ with locally sourced seasonal vegetables and the house bread. Enjoy.”

Killian thanked him, and then turned his attention back to Emma. She looked as breathtaking as she always did to him, but knowing how much she wanted him too, after another shared moment in their bedroom, had him consciously trying to maintain his composure as he sat opposite her.

To anyone else, she looked at ease and every bit the wealthy suburban resident they were masquerading as. But he knew her tells, and the way her eyes darted around, her hands restlessly smoothing over the edges of the tablecloth or toying with her napkin, had him hyper-aware of how out-of-her-depth she must be feeling.

Reaching over the table as she went to pick up her fork, he laced his fingers with hers and she lifted her gaze from her plate to meet his.

“You okay, love?”

He asked quietly, and her confused expression softened, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips as she squeezed his hand.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “I have absolutely no idea what I’m about to eat though.”

He chuckled, and released her hand, settling his napkin on his lap and shaking his head.

“It was mostly guesswork for me too, don’t worry.”

They ate in companionable silence, both enjoying their appetizers more than they’d anticipated. When the waiter returned to take their plates away, Emma complimented the chef genuinely, though she did admittedly use lines she’d lifted from the endless episodes of Chopped and other Food Network shows she’d binged on at 2am during her bouts of insomnia through the years.

Emma glanced around as the waiter refilled their glasses of water, catching sight of a young couple. They were clearly engrossed in one another, the woman’s foot tentatively moving over to playfully brush up the inside of her companion’s calf. He in turn leaned forward and said something to her, which had her giggling and coyly batting her lashes at him. It was a gentle reminder for Emma that she and Killian were supposed to be on a romantic date, as oblivious to everything around them as the couple across the room.

She straightening in her seat a little, and once the waiter had moved away, she focused her attention on Killian. Crossing her legs, she stretched one out until the toe of her shoe found his. Then, slowly, she moved it upward, watching his face carefully. His eyes snapped to hers when he realized the action was purposeful, and as she reached the inside of his knee, he swallowed thickly.

She gave him a seductive smile, placing an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand. He cleared his throat, grabbing his glass and taking a gulp of water before leaning forward with a smile and whispering conspiratorially.

“What are you trying to do to me, lass? Here, in the middle of a bloody restaurant…”

Emma reached for her wine glass and pressed her lips to it to hold back a laugh, taking a small sip of wine. Shaking her head, she lowered it and smiled, her eyes still locked with Killian’s.

“I’m pretty much just copying that couple over there,” she said under her breath, subtly directing his gaze with her own, “They look decidedly loved up and can’t stop touching each other in one way or another. They caught my eye and I realized...that’s supposed to be us. We’re supposed to be giving that impression to anyone who looks our way.”

Understanding dawned on Killian’s face then and he nodded thoughtfully, chancing a subtle glance at the other couple. Emma could practically see the gears turning in his head as he met her gaze once more, and then he was once again reaching across the table to take her hand.

“So, Swan. Tell me, what do you get up to when you aren’t saving the world?”

Emma was momentarily thrown, her smile faltering as she gave him a confused stare.

“Uh...what are you doing?”

She asked, baffled by the sudden change of direction. He lowered his voice and leaned forward slightly, to ensure that only she could hear him.

“I’m enjoying our _date_ , love. I know you’re my _wife_ and all, but I seem to have forgotten everything we’ve learned about each other over the _years_ we’ve been together.”

He winked and she rolled her eyes, smiling despite the surge of butterflies that took flight in her stomach at the idea of their fancy dinner being any kind of _real_ date. As nervous as it made her, she didn’t feel the pressing need to bolt from the restaurant accompanying the nerves...and that was definitely a first.

“Alright. I’ll bite,” she smiled at him from under her lashes, “I like running. And sometimes yoga, but only the hot kind, or pilates ‘cause it’s a bit faster paced, and I’m not very good at sitting still. I like my workouts to challenge me.”

“So you’re either working or working out. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” he chuckled at the light kick to the shin she gave him under the table, “What about for _fun_ , darling? Are you a movie buff? Or perhaps you like hiking? I’d love to know just who you are, Emma Swan.”

She reached for her glass with the hand that wasn’t held gently in Killian’s atop the table, and sipped her wine thoughtfully, trying to ignore the instinct to pull her walls firmly up around her. She was tired of being an island, and keeping everyone at arm’s length, despite feeling safer that way. And maybe it would be nice to finally let someone get to know her without her defense mechanisms kicking into high gear.

“I like Netflix,” she shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t really _do_ much outside of work and working out. I know, that’s pretty sad. Will is always getting at me for being a workaholic. But I...go out, sometimes.”

She dropped her gaze, sliding her hand out of his grasp and toying with the napkin across her lap. Killian’s eyes were still on her, but it wasn’t a judgemental gaze. She’d told him before that she was a One Night Wonder. He’d experienced it for himself - her disappearing act right after she got what she needed. And he’d never made her feel like it was a negative thing, even after she’d lashed out at him in a panic when he’d tried to flirt with her the day they’d met _formerly_.

“Hey, look at me. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all have needs.”

He spoke softly, and she finally lifted her gaze back to his. He smiled, and she returned it with a shaky one of her own.

“I love to be on the water, be it the sea or even just a lake” he said, matter-of-factly, shifting the topic to himself when he sensed her slight discomfort, “I was in the Navy, as I think I’ve mentioned before. Got myself into a little bit of trouble, because sometimes I think with this,” he gestured to his heart, “before this,” he gestured to his head, “and...well, perhaps that’s a story better told in the privacy of our home. But anyway. My point was - I’m rather partial to sailing. I have a small boat docked on Chopawamsic Creek, back in Virginia, and I like to take it out whenever I can. It’s my personal version of a Man Cave, I suppose.”

He reached up to scratch his ear, shaking his head a little with a smile. She noted the way his eyes lit up just a little bit when he talked about his boat. It suited him, and she found herself slightly mesmerized. He hadn't told her all that much about himself, other than opening up to her about his brother, which she knew couldn't have been easy if he found talking about the past to be as difficult a feat as she did.

“It must be nice to have something like that, something you can escape with whenever work or...life in general gets a bit too much?”

He nodded, his eyes boring into her with an openness she was still adjusting to.

“Aye, it’s therapeutic, most definitely. Perhaps...I mean, if you're ever...in Virginia...for whatever reason, you might let me show you the old girl? Take her out for a spin?”

It was his turn to fidget with his napkin now, clearly uncertain as he ventured into waters they hadn't dared to discuss. There was something between them, as they were both acutely aware, but Killian was looking past their temporary assignment, into the _future_.

And that future involved him going back to Virginia and her getting back to her life in Boston. Thinking about that, and the fact that he was subtly hinting at the idea of them remaining in contact after their professional obligations were through, had her pulse stuttering and a knot of apprehension sitting heavily in her stomach.

She wasn't sure which prospect was unnerving and filling her with dread the most though; Killian leaving and their partnership, including whatever it was between them now, coming to an end, with them both returning to their lives...or the idea that he wanted to keep in touch and remain in her life in any capacity.

Clearing her throat, Emma offered him a shaky smile.

“Well, I don’t generally find myself in Virginia, like...ever, if I'm being honest,” she gave a short laugh, “but uh...yeah, sure. Why not?”

She tried to ignore the flurry of butterflies taking flight in her stomach in response to the tentatively hopeful look in his eyes, and was thankful the waiter was returning with their entrées right on cue.

For the rest of the meal, the conversation turned to lighthearted topics and Emma found herself genuinely enjoying the evening. Her sides ached from laughing so much at his silly anecdotes and cheesy flirting attempts, and she made him laugh in return with amusing stories from her bail bonds days.

They opted to share dessert, and agreed upon the Gianduja panna cotta with cherry compote and hazelnut praline. It was one of the few things both of them could easily understand from the menu, so it had been an easy choice. And Emma pointed out that they couldn't really go wrong with chocolate.

Once it arrived, Killian scooped a little of the sweet treat onto his spoon and offered it to her across the table. Emma stared at him blankly for a moment, before she realized what he was doing. She blushed but tried to play down her fluster by rolling her eyes at him.

Leaning forward and holding his eye contact unwaveringly, she opened her mouth to let him feed her the dessert in the most blatantly erotic act she'd ever partaken in while in public. He pulled the now-empty spoon back and she noticed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His eyes were still locked on her mouth as she dragged her tongue over her bottom lip, savouring the sweet, smooth taste of the chocolate and the equally delicious sight of Killian Jones thrown off kilter.

It was her turn then, and she picked up her own tiny dessert spoon, mimicking what he'd done and scooping a little of the panna cotta onto the spoon to offer to him.

He eyed her with a small smirk, the tips of his ears still red and giving away how much she'd shaken him up with her sensual little display. He returned the favor, but didn't make quite so much of a show of it as she had.

Instead, after his mouthful, he hummed in appreciation and leaned closer, his tone low and sinfully decadent.

“It's delicious, but not half as delicious as the taste of you, darling. Nothing can quite compare to that ambrosia.”

Emma felt her cheeks immediately flush and she knew she was gawping at him, so she snapped her mouth shut. By his shit-eating grin as he leaned back in his chair, she could tell he had pulled the reaction from her that he’d been aiming for. And she had to admit, they'd both given as good as they got when it came to the flirting stakes that evening.

And the thing was...neither of them had really felt like they were playing the role of anyone but themselves.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

After Emma finally agreed to let Killian pick up the check (which she had only acquiesced to after making him agree to letting her pay for their next dinner date), they left the restaurant hand-in-hand. Emma still felt strange finding herself so comfortable with a public display of affection like that, but she liked how strong and warm his hand felt wrapped around hers.

They’d parked with a valet at the end of the block, so they took their time walking, neither in a hurry for the night to end. Emma shivered, the slight chill in the air making her wish she’d grabbed a jacket, and Killian immediately noticed, stopping and shrugging off his own jacket, and draping it around her shoulders without a word. She smiled a little shyly and thanked him. He took her hand again as they continued down the street, and she couldn’t help but feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Everything he did, especially the small, sweet gestures like giving her his jacket, only made her warm to him even more.

As they reached the corner, Killian canted his head toward the entrance for the valeted parking lot.

“You wait here, Swan, and I’ll collect the car.”

She nodded, tugging his jacket closed around her when he let go of her hand and headed toward the parking lot a few feet away. As he disappeared down the slope, Emma glanced over her shoulder. The street was quiet, apart from the muted sound of laughter and talking from a nearby bar and faint notes of music from another.

There was no one else out on the street at that point, other than a group standing smoking outside a bar a few blocks up, and yet Emma couldn’t help but feel as though she was being watched. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she tugged Killian’s jacket even tighter, eyes darting around for any sign of someone obviously watching her.

Moments later, Killian was pulling the car out of the parking lot and rolling to a stop beside her. He reached over and opened the door, and she eagerly climbed into the passenger seat, opting not to say anything to him about feeling as though eyes were on her, without having any evidence that her gut feeling had been something other than a touch of paranoia. They were, after all, trying to lure a killer. A little paranoia was understandable...right?

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

Once they arrived home, Emma kicked off her shoes the second they stepped through the door and padded barefoot through to the kitchen, Killian close on her heels. She’d had a feeling that if she’d ordered beer at the fancy Italian restaurant, she’d raise eyebrows, so she’d opted for wine. But now she was home, she was more than ready to get the bitter aftertaste of the wine out of her mouth with a bottle of beer.

Sitting together in their living room with a bottle of beer each had become a little tradition she’d already grown fond of too. She grabbed one for herself and one for Killian, and gestured toward the living room, holding out the beer for him. He happily accepted it and followed her.

Emma slipped Killian’s jacket off her shoulders, draping it over the back of one of the comfy chairs and dropping down onto her side of the sofa. Killian sat down beside her and leaned down to unlace his shoes, toeing them off before relaxing back with a contented sigh.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Killian turned his head to consider Emma, a thoughtful look on his face. She met his gaze unwaveringly, wondering absently what he saw when he looked at her like that, his eyes feeling like they were piercing straight through to the very heart of her and yet never faltering.

“I had a wonderful time tonight.”

He said, his gaze as soft as his voice, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips ever so slightly. Emma tipped her bottle toward him with a smile of her own.

“Me too. Best fake date I’ve ever been on.”

She joked. His smile faltered a little, and he looked away, sitting up a little straighter and clearing his throat.

“Aye. Fake date,” he repeated, an edge to his voice, and hesitated for a second before turning to face her, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel something more, Emma. Tell me you didn’t feel...this, between us, stronger than ever. Tell me you don’t want me the way I want you…”

Emma’s mouth went dry, her beer forgotten as she stared at him, lost for words, heart thundering so loudly that she was sure he could hear it too. Of course she felt it, and of course she wanted him; surely he couldn’t be blind enough to think she was immune to the electricity between them?

And yet here he was, looking at her with so much uncertainty now, doubting himself and his abilities to read her. Didn’t he realize by this point that she deflected from difficult subjects with flippant comments and feigned indifference? She was the one hesitating then, but only for a brief moment, because then she placed her still-full beer bottle down on the coffee table and moved closer to him, removing his bottle from his hands and placing it beside hers. Turning her full attention back to him, she shuffled closer to him, eyes locked with his, and reached up to press her hands to his cheeks.

“I feel it. Every damn day when I wake up next to you, I feel it. When you’re spooning me, pressed up against me, I feel it...in more ways than one. When it doesn’t scare the shit out of me now quite as much as I want it to, I feel it. And when you look at me like that, with those goddamn eyes of yours that seem to see right through every defense mechanism of mine...I feel it. There’s not a single day I _haven’t_ felt it, Killian. And every day we fake all of this...it becomes harder for me to remember that it’s not really ours.”

Killian gulped, lifting his hands to cover hers, lowering them and gently interlacing their fingers. Emma looked down at their joined hands momentarily, before finding his eyes once more. His pupils were blown wide and his gaze flickered from her eyes down to her lips.

“The house and the marriage might not be real, Emma. But how much I want you...that’s as real as it gets. I know I jumped the gun last time and made a move before you really had chance to process it, but this time I’m asking...please...can I kiss you?”

Emma’s heart was still racing, and the awkward sideward positions they were sitting in on the sofa had her dress riding high on her thighs, but she couldn’t have cared even if she wanted to. Not when Killian was looking at her with such a potent mixture of hunger and adoration. Unable to find her voice, she simply nodded, and before she could blink again, Killian’s lips were on hers.

The fire was familiar, rushing through her blood and making her feel like he’d set her aflame with just a kiss. And this time he wasn’t rushing things. He was kissing her deeply, thoroughly, hands sliding into her hair and making her moan against his lips as the heady feeling of pure _want_ washed over her in waves.

She clung to him by the lapels of his shirt, unable to get enough but needing to cling to something to ground her. She broke their kiss by shoving him back and for a moment he looked stricken, as though he’d done something wrong and had an apology already forming on his lips. But she didn’t give him chance to speak, pushing him back against the sofa and quickly moving to straddle him, her dress riding even higher up on her thighs and barely covering her most intimate area.

“Fuck, Emma…”

“Yeah, well, I really _hope_ that’s where this is headed.”

She retorted, and captured his lips once again, tasting the laugh along with the groan that rumbled in his chest when she made a dirty grind against him with a roll of her hips. His hands gripped her waist, encouraging the rhythmic movement she’d started, and then moved to grab her ass, eliciting a mewl of satisfaction from her as the action pressed her center firmly against the hard ridge of him.

When Emma continued to roll her hips, uncaring that they were basically dry-humping like horny teenagers on the sofa, her dress finally slipped up over her ass, and Killian’s hands found bare skin. He groaned and cursed into her mouth, and she nipped on his bottom lip before pulling back to smirk at him, knowing he’d discovered her secret.

“No knickers? Are you trying to kill me, woman?”

“This dress isn’t exactly pantyline-friendly,” she shrugged, reaching for his hand and guiding it between her legs, her eyes fluttering and a shaky sigh passing her lips when his fingertips slipped through her folds, “God, yeah, right there…”

“Christ, you’re soaked…”

“I’ve been wet for you all night.”

She purred, uncaring of how wanton she sounded, her body desperately begging for a release she knew only he could give her. Killian cursed under his breath again, his chest heaving and his eyes flickering from her face down to where his fingers were pressing against her.

She knew she must look a sight, sat astride him with her dress up around her waist, hair a tousled mess from his hands and her chest heaving while breathy pleas and desperate moans began to fall from her lips as his fingers moved with expert precision against her. He alternated between sliding up and circling her clit, causing her entire body to shudder with pleasure, and sliding down to dip ever so slightly inside her, teasing her and making her try to roll her hips for more.

“Love the sounds you make, Emma. Let me hear you. Tell me what I do to you. How this makes you feel…”  
  
“I-I…fuck...it feels so good,” she whimpered, her head tipping back and her eyes closed as she lost herself in a sea of pleasure, jumbled words tumbling from her lips, “Need...more. Please. Fuck….”

He chuckled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her neck, dragging his teeth against the sensitive skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She cried out, awash in sensation.

“What do you need, Emma?”

Killian whispered against her skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her clavicle. He knew he could probably finish just from watching her in the throes of passion, but thankfully the weight of her against him was muted through his pants and she was currently too focused on chasing her own high against his fingers to give him the friction he knew would be his undoing.

“I need...to come…”

She whimpered, crying out when he shifted the angle of his hand and pushed two fingers inside her, keeping his thumb pressed against her bundle of nerves. She rode his hand desperately then, little gasps falling from her lips as her entire body began to tense up. As he curled his fingers inside her and thrust in and out quickly, his eyes locked on her face, memorizing the sight of her lost in pleasure, he could feel her about to fall over the edge for him.

“Open your eyes. I want you to look at me when you come.”

He demanded, slowing his fingers for a moment, which was met with a whine of protest from her. But she did as he asked, her chest flushed and heaving as she teetered on the edge, her orgasm tantalizingly close. Another rough thrust of his fingers coupled with a well-placed press of his thumb, and she was falling apart, her eyes wide and locked on his as a breathless, hoarse cry tore from her lips. She stilled, legs shaking on either side of his and her stomach muscles quivering with the force of the pleasure that exploded and radiated out along every nerve in her body.

He brought her down slowly, his fingers still inside her, and she fell forward, her head resting on his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. She’d never looked anyone in the eye like that as they brought her to orgasm before, and it had been the most intense experience, her body feeling like it was floating as she gradually came down from her high.

“I don’t think my legs are gonna work for an entire day now…”

She panted, her words muffled against his shoulder, and he laughed. When he finally pulled his hand out from between her legs, she whimpered and pushed herself to sit upright, knowing she probably looked as wrecked as he did. Her mouth went dry as she watched him lift his fingers to his lips then, sucking them into his mouth and groaning. And just like that, she was keyed up again, heat flooding her body.

“You taste even better than I remember, darling,” he smirked at the way she was staring at him with hooded eyes, “I fear I might be addicted to it. To you, and the way you taste on my tongue.”

“Who the fuck taught you how to dirty talk like that? God, Jones...are you trying to get me off again with just your voice?”

She muttered breathlessly, and watched as his eyes darkened even more, as though he might just be considered trying to do exactly that. She shook her head, moving her hand to his thigh and feeling for the hard outline of his cock. It wasn’t exactly difficult to locate, considering his size, and she rubbed him through his pants, feeling him stiffen and meeting his eyes with a smirk as he choked out a gasp.

She squeezed him and after a few more firm presses, his hand shot out to grip her wrist, giving her a warning look. She knew that having her grinding on his lap and coming around his fingers had probably had him perilously close to finishing before he’d even released himself from the confines of his pants, so she removed her hand with a smug smile.

Shuffling backwards and forcing herself to stand on shaky legs then, Emma tugged her dress back down to cover herself. He looked confused for a moment, sat there on the sofa with a very obvious bulge, when she headed for the kitchen. Stopping in the doorway, she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Are you coming or not?”

She said seductively, and he practically tripped over his own feet as he got to his feet and chased after her.

“I bloody well hope so, otherwise I might spontaneously combust.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head, detouring into the kitchen for a moment and stopping to grab one of the boxes of condoms she’d bought at the store. Rounding the counter, she grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway. Before they started up the stairs, he tugged on her hand and she turned to look at him curiously.

“Swan...Emma...are you sure? We don’t have to-”

“Are you kidding? You wanna put the brakes on _now_?”

He looked aghast that she’d think he was having second thoughts and shook his head.

“Gods, no. You know I want you. But I don’t want you to regret this and shut me out in the  morning…”

She took in the earnest, hopeful expression on his face and tried desperately to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind warning her that she was already in way too deep with this guy. She’d never been with anyone that made her feel the way he did, but she found herself not wanting to fight it, for the first time ever.

“I won’t regret it. I want this. But I appreciate you giving me an out even when we almost just dry humped you to coming in your pants on the sofa.”

They both laughed a little breathlessly then, nerves fluttering in her stomach at the way he looked at her, like she was a piece of artwork that had utterly mesmerized him. She canted her head toward the stairs, his hand still in hers.

“So...you wanna go upstairs and have me ‘naked and writhing under you’ as you so eloquently put it earlier on? I also remember something about me begging you to let me come...”

Killian smirked at her words, pulling her hand toward his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of it, eyes locked on hers. Emma bit her lip, rolling her eyes but it fell flat considering she could feel the blush coloring her cheeks.

“Is that a challenge, love? Because I am _more_ than willing to take it on.”

“Less talking, more moving this upstairs before we end up fucking on the stairs, Jones. I don’t want bruises all over me tomorrow.”

He gave her a playful soldier’s salute with the hand that she wasn’t holding, and then eagerly followed her up the stairs, his heart racing with the anticipation of what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that one ended up being literally double the length of all my other chapters, but I really wanted to cram all of it into one chapter. And leave you all hating me for ending it where I did! *smirk*. Fear not, next chapter picks up right where this one left off.
> 
> Thanks to all the usual suspects. You know who you are and that I appreciate you beyond words. Thank you to everyone who reads, and extra thanks to those of you who also take the time to review. You keep my muse in nice things and we are most grateful.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pure smut and really makes this fic earn its M rating. Enjoy.

Emma was barely through their bedroom door when Killian pulled her to him, kissing her thoroughly and smiling as she giggled into the kiss, blindly tossing the box of condoms onto the bedside table. It was good to hear her laugh, to see that she was letting herself enjoy what was unfolding between them without being distracted by everything outside the sanctuary of their home.

“I can taste myself on your tongue.”

She hummed against his lips, swiping her tongue over his bottom lip, and giggled again when he groaned. He reached for her hand and guided it to the front of his pants, pressing it over the hard ridge of his erection that had been begging for some real friction since she’d unceremoniously mounted him on the sofa.

“Feel what you do to me when you say things like that, lass.”

He mumbled, never breaking the connection of their lips as he awkwardly guided them toward the bed, her hand still rubbing against him and his hands now in her hair. He really couldn't get enough of running them through her golden tresses, already tussled from his earlier attentions.

When her knees bumped against the bed, she dropped down to sit on the edge of it, breathless as she looked up at him with a heated gaze. Her chest was flushed, her cheeks too, and he was very much enjoying seeing just how affected she was by what they were doing. He dropped to his knees then, nudging hers wider so he was kneeling between them, his hands on her thighs, sliding upwards achingly slowly. He saw her breath catch as her eyes flickered from his hands to his face, the torturously slow pace of his seduction making her tremble with delicious anticipation.

“Lean back on your elbows, Emma.”

He commanded softly, the timbre of his voice and the way his accent curled around her name sending a flash of heat right to her core. She did as she was told, leaning back and allowing him a little more space to bend, kissing his way along the same path his hands had made up her thighs. Open-mouthed kisses with the occasional drag of his teeth against her soft skin left her panting, unable to look away despite the urge to close her eyes and lose herself to the sensations he was creating.

Her dress was just about covering her still, but when his kisses reached the top of her thighs, she instinctively lifted her hips so he could push her dress up, leaving her bare to his sight. He growled and nipped at the sharp jut of her hip bones in turn, causing her to gasp quietly, before returning to his task of driving her slowly insane by pressing kisses everywhere except where she desperately wanted him.

She didn’t even realize she was rolling her hips slightly until he wrapped his arms around her thighs and yanked her slightly closer to the edge of the bed. He glanced up at her with a smirk, and then finally,  _ finally _ , lowered his head between her legs, wasting no time in dragging his tongue though her folds, causing her to jerk and cry out as a sharp bolt of pleasure shot through her.

“Oh,  _ God _ , that feels good…”

She moaned, her head dropping back while she struggled to stay up on her elbows. He pulled back and she whimpered at the loss. Looking down at him, about to ask why the hell he’d stopped, he simply smirked at her.

“Watch me, love. I want those gorgeous green eyes on me the whole time, understood?”

She nodded, forgetting how to form words through the foggy haze of desire clouding her head. He returned to his task then, and in no time at all, she was shuddering and shaking, moaning loudly and whimpering out a litany of curses as he kept her on the edge, slowing down right everytime she thought she was going to fall.

It was the most divine torture, and he read her body’s cues so well, his attentiveness allowing him to deny her gratification until she felt like she was losing her mind. Her abs aching from the tension of his repeated build-ups and the extended time teetering on the precipice of orgasm.

“Remember how I said I’d make you beg-”

“ _ Please! _ ” She cut him off with a sob, uncaring that she would have scoffed at the idea of begging a man for anything if she hadn’t been so worked up, “Please, Killian...let me…oh  _ God! _ ”

He’d tugged her legs over his shoulders and buried his face between her legs again the second his name had fallen from her lips, sucking her clit between his lips and applying enough pressure that she immediately stiffened, screaming out her pleasure as an intense orgasm gripped her.

Like earlier, he eased her down, gentle licks and tender kisses pressed to her glistening folds and her legs, which now felt like lead to her and twitched occasionally with aftershocks. She didn’t remember falling back from her elbows, but when she finally remembered how to breath again, she was staring at the ceiling, her body bathed in the glorious afterglow.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

Will wasn’t a huge fan of having to stay late at work, on his own, to sit and watch a bunch of security cameras that over the past week had shown not much more than Emma and Killian dancing around each other and getting on with mundane day-to-day life. When they’d moved in, almost a week earlier, they’d opted to use the living room that didn’t have cameras and microphones hooked up. So the majority of the time, whoever was manning the cameras in the evenings at the station had the boring job of staring at empty screens.

But, Will supposed, boring and uneventful was better than the alternative - seeing something that required action and meant the two of them were in some kind of danger. So far though, since returning from their dinner date, Emma and Killian had been holed up in the living room, away from the cameras, and Will had sat spinning around in his chair, clock watching and counting down until the night shift rookie showed up around midnight.

He alternated between playing various games on his phone and texting Lily. Ruby had done her usual trick of playing matchmaker, but this time it seemed to have been rather successful. She’d insisted that Will  _ just had to  _ meet her roommate, and had set them up on a somewhat-awkward blind-date at the diner. The awkwardness had managed to break the ice between them though, and they’d hit it off. He’d bashfully asked for her number after the date, and they’d exchanged them while rolling their eyes at a gleefully smug Ruby giving them both a thumbs-up from behind the counter.

That had been less than a week ago, and they’d been texting non-stop ever since. He’d send her a silly meme, and she’d respond with a gif or a sequence of emojis that he’d chuckle at as he deciphered them. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush, and had Emma been around, he knew he would have talked her ear off about Lily by now, and she would have teased him mercilessly about that fact.

He was so engrossed in searching for a reaction gif to respond to Lily’s latest text, that Will failed to notice Emma and Killian emerging from the living room on one of the screens, heading upstairs. He was spinning slowly around on the office chair and chuckling to himself over his gif choice, blissfully unaware as Emma appeared on another screen, entering the bedroom with Killian now. By the time he hit send on his text, he’d missed the fact that the couple were kissing and quite clearly leading into something more as Emma sat down on the edge of the bed, her back to the camera.

It was only when Emma moaned loudly that Will’s head snapped up. His eyes widened as he quickly scanned all the screens and saw Emma sat on the bed, propped up on her elbows, with Killian’s head between her legs and her dress hiked up around her waist.

Panicking, Will frantically tried to slide his chair closer to the screens so he could shut the bedroom camera off, but in his haste, the legs of the chair locked and he ended up on the floor with a grunt, his phone clattering down too. Scrambling to his feet, he desperately fumbled with switches and buttons, but to his horror, the volume on the microphones went up, and the sound of Emma crying out in pleasure ricocheted off the glass walls of the small security headquarters they’d had set up for the mission.

_ “Please, Killian...let me…oh God!” _

“Bloody fuckin’ fuck!”

Will yelped, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he hurriedly switched the microphones off and finally found the control button for switching the cameras on and off. After a few attempts, and more muttered expletives as he averted his eyes from Emma and Killian’s little rendezvous as much as he possibly could, he finally hit the right button and the bedroom screen went black.

With a sigh of relief, and his heart still racing, mortified that he’d seen so much, Will righted his chair and sat down heavily. It was a small mercy that he was the only one left in the office, because the idea of any of their co-workers, or any of Killian’s team - or worse,  _ David _ \- seeing Emma like that, horrified him even more.

He’d suspected that they’d forgotten about the cameras and microphones in the house after previously witnessing a tender and charged moment between them in the kitchen. But he hadn’t expected it to escalate to the point where he’d catch the beginning of an unintentional porno.

When he’d finally recovered enough to think straight, he groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. He knew he was no doubt going to be stuck with the mental image they’d unknowingly burned onto his retinas now and be tormented endlessly by the fact that he now knew what his partner’s sex noises sounded like.

Cursing as he remembered dropping his phone, he retrieved it and opened his messages, quickly typing out a text to Emma, though he knew full well that she was much too distracted to pay any attention to her phone at that point. Once sent, he turned his focus determinedly to the cameras. 

He was going to make sure that the brief footage of Emma and Killian’s  _ dalliance _ was erased, because there was no way on God’s green earth he was about to let anyone else see his best friend and partner in that position. He knew how mortified she’d be if she’d remembered about the presence of the cameras and realized they were being recorded, so he set to work erasing any evidence of what he’d witnessed.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

“Stand up, sweetheart.”

“I honestly don’t think my legs are gonna hold me up after  _ that _ .”

Emma laughed breathlessly, completely uncaring that she was lying with her legs dangling off the side of the bed and her dress bunched up around her waist, bare to his gaze. He was standing between her knees, drinking in the sight of her, and as her eyes flitted down to the tented crotch of his pants, she pushed herself back up onto her elbows, licking her lips.

Standing on shaky legs, his arms immediately circled her waist and she felt the zipper of her dress being dragged down. He took half a step back and Emma let the dress fall, standing completely naked in front of him. A surge of self-consciousness had the air backing up in her lungs and she pulled him forward, trembling fingers tugging his shirt out of his pants and hastily ridding him of his belt, before concentrating on unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it off his shoulders.

Killian helped her divest him of his pants, and in no time at all he too was naked, painfully aroused by the feeling of Emma’s warm, soft skin pressed up against his own as he leaned down to kiss her again. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she hummed into the kiss. He hoisted her up into his arms, hands on her ass, squeezing gently, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist so ensure he didn’t drop her.

After a few torturous moments of kissing her and feeling her wet heat pressing against the his length where it was trapped between them, Killian turned and sat down where Emma had been earlier, his lips still on hers. Their position mirrored the one they’d enjoyed in the living room, but this time they had the added sensation of bare skin and no clothing to mute the feeling of one another.

Emma pulled back, lips kiss-bruised and her chest heaving. She looked dazedly into his eyes for a moment, knowing she probably looked just as wrecked as he did, and he wasn’t even inside her yet. Leaning over, she grabbed the box of condoms and, after a bit of fumbling and a few curses, she ripped open the box and pulled one square foil out. She wasted no time in ripping it open with her teeth and slipped her hand between their bodies to wrap around his straining cock, swiping her thumb over the tip to smear the pre-cum that was already beading there. 

She gave him a few twists of her wrist and pumped her hand up and down, which had him jerking and groaning, his head lolling forward to rest on her shoulder as he watched her hand work him expertly. Then, she took the condom and rolled it down the length of him in one smooth movement, quickly shifting to lift her hips and line him up at her entrance.

“Emma…”

Her gaze snapped to his then, and he saw the momentary flash of apprehension, as though he was going to say he’d suddenly changed his mind, that this wasn’t a good idea. The mere thought that she might doubt how much he wanted her, wanted everything she was willing to offer, made his expression soften. He lifted his hand to her cheek, his thumb tenderly caressing as he looked into her eyes, hoping she could read the truth in his words as they fell from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He whispered reverently, and she immediately dropped her gaze. He frowned, moving his hand to tilt her chin, encouraging her to meet his eyes once more. Somewhat reluctantly she did, and he caught the flash of uncertainty reflected back at him.

“Hey,” he said, softly, “You really are so beautiful, Emma. Stunning, exquisite, breathtaking. In case you hadn’t realized, I’m...rather taken by you. I just want to make sure you really do want this.”

She snorted, cheeks pink, and gestured between them.

“I’d think the fact that I just put a condom on you is a pretty good non-verbal clue…” Killian remained silent, waiting, and she bit her lip, turning serious, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet but sure, “Yes, Killian. I want this.” 

He nodded then, surging forward to kiss her and she took that opportunity to sink down onto him, moaning into his mouth at the overwhelming sensation of him filling her. Stilling once she’d taken him in to the hilt, she realized her eyes had fallen closed and she opened them to see Killian looking at her as though she was some kind of celestial being, an otherworldly creature that he couldn’t quite believe he was being afforded the chance to touch.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she rolled her hips and they groaned simultaneously. It had been almost two weeks since they’d first experienced this kind of bliss together, but it felt like a lifetime ago. It had been incredible then, but the build-up of tension over the last week of living together was ensuring that this time was already blowing their first time out of the water.

Desperate for more, Emma lifted her hips and began to ride Killian with abandon. Her head fell back and he leaned forward to press his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking the delicate skin, teeth grazing and adding to the vortex of sensation that was threatening to overcome both of them.

When she leaned backwards, her hands finding purchase behind her, on his knees, Killian’s hands instinctively slipped under her to grab her ass and ensure she didn’t fall off his lap. She managed to find her rhythm quickly, and he took the opportunity to lean forward again, this time capturing one of her nipples and swirling his tongue around it. She faltered, gasping at the extra stimulation, and he dragged his teeth over her gently.

She shuddered, feeling her walls involuntarily clench around him like a vice, and when he choked out a curse against her breast, she knew he’d felt it too. Gasping for breath, sweat glistening on her skin and her thighs burning with the exertion, she doubled down, slamming her hips down and clenching on each downstroke.

“Emma….s-slow down- fuck! Slow down, love...I won’t last…”

She shook her head, but momentarily slowed down and met his gaze.

“I want more than one round out of this, after weeks of getting myself off in the shower thinking about you…”

She said breathlessly, and he was stunned into silence for a second, before he yanked her closer to him by her hips. She yelped at the sudden sharp pressure of him seated even deeper inside her, but it quickly melted into a long moan of pleasure as his hand slipped between them and his thumb found her clit with unerring accuracy.

“Fall with me, darling. I want to feel you come around my cock and take me over with you.”

Emma swallowed a moan and nodded numbly, speeding up her thrusts so she was bouncing in his lap again, the delicious sensation of her orgasm building until it crashed down, blinding her as stars exploded behind her eyes and she let out a long, loud moan, barely registering his fingers digging into her hips, hard enough to probably leave bruises, as he thrust up a final time and stilled. He groaned out her name, his legs twitching beneath her, and she could feel the subsiding pulses of his release deep inside her. 

He fell backwards, still inside her and gripping her hips. She squeaked in surprise, falling too but catching herself with her hands either side of his head, her hair curtained around them.

“Hi.”

She said shyly, silently wondering how the hell she could suddenly feel shy after  _ that _ and when he was still semi-hard inside her, following a mind-blowing simultaneous orgasm.

“Hi to you too.”

He gave her a dreamy smile and chuckled, reaching up to thread his hands into her hair and pull her down more firmly on top of him, their lips meeting in a slow, tender kiss. Eventually, Emma pulled back, biting her lip as he slipped out of her, and she moved to lay beside him on the bed. He eventually sat up once he’d come down enough from his high to think coherently, and reached for a box of tissues on the the bedside table, promptly ridding himself of the condom.

Emma shifted too, pulling back the covers and moving over to her side of the bed, shivering as the afterglow wore off and the cool air of the room chilled her bare skin. Killian joined her, slipping under the covers and immediately pulling her toward him, loving the feeling of being skin-on-skin with her without any barriers. He leaned in to kiss her, and she smiled against his lips.

They didn’t speak for awhile, content to share slow, lazy kisses as their hands wandered, touching every inch of one another until they were both breathing heavily. Her toes curled when he palmed one of her breasts, thumb brushing over her nipple, and she dragged her nails down his back in retaliation, eliciting a quiet groan of appreciation from him.

“Feels like you’re  _ up _ for round two.”

She teased when his hips rutted involuntarily in response to her scratching down his back, and she felt his hardening cock press insistently against her thigh. His hands moved to her hips then and he rolled them effortlessly so that she was beneath him, legs splayed to accommodate him and body shuddering when he canted his hips  _ just _ so against her, rubbing his length in exactly the right spot.

“Tease…”

She whispered, trying to shift her hips up and encourage him to repeat the action. He stilled, smirking down at her, holding himself up on his elbows, and after a few moments he gave her what she wanted, a dirty grind that had her gasping with the sharp shock of pleasure radiating out from her core.

It was good, but it wasn’t enough. Despite having had two orgasms already, she was more than ready to chase another, and desperately reached for another condom with shaking hands. He sat back on his knees, and she followed suit, but instead of simply ripping open another condom and rolling it down onto him, she motioned for him to move backwards, a glint in her eyes. He did so with a frown of confusion.

“What are you do-... _ bloody hell. _ ”

Emma had moved so that she was on all fours in front of him, ass in the air as she dropped down onto her elbows, her mouth level with his cock. Without hesitating, she licked a firm stripe up the length of him and took just the head of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive tip and humming at the taste of him.

She bobbed her head, taking in a little more of him each time, until he hit the back of her throat and loudly moaned her name. She kept taking him as deeply as she could, catching her breath everytime she pulled back and concentrating on the sounds he was making with every little thing she did.

His hand tentatively tangled in her hair and she looked up at him, taking in how lost in pleasure he looked as he watched her blow him. She felt a certain sense of power, being able to ruin a man so thoroughly with just the use of her mouth, and Killian certainly looked ruined.

“Swan, stop-”

She pulled back momentarily, smirking up at him before diving right back in, doubling down on her efforts until he was panting and desperately saying her name. She kept her eyes locked on his as she wrapped her hand around the base of him and twisted her wrist in short, firm strokes, dipping her head to swipe her tongue over his balls, earning her a strangled groan from him.

“Emma, I’m close.”

He warned, his voice strained and giving away how hard he was working to control himself. She lifted her head then, smirking once more and biting his thigh gently, her hand still working him.

“Well, I should hope so. I’m giving you some of my best work here.”

With that, she took him into her mouth again, deep-throating him and gagging around his generous length. He grunted loudly, hips thrusting wildly a few times until she felt the warmth of his release hitting the back of her throat and filling her mouth. Pulling back slightly so that she could swallow, she looked up at him, both of them trying to catch their breath.

“That was... _ Jesus _ , Emma, I...”

He trailed off, seemingly unable to form sentences effectively so soon after a mind-blowing orgasm. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and moved to kneel up, watching him carefully.

“Was it...okay?”

She asked slowly, and he gawped at her.

“Okay?! Are you joking? It was the most incredible blowjob I’ve ever received,” he drew her to him, cupping her cheek with one hand, “Thank you, love.”

He kissed her then, another slow, deep affair that had her melting in his arms. If would be a little while before he’d be ready to go again, despite having an impressively short refractory period, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t satisfy her in the meantime.

She giggled as he turned them around and pulled her down on top of him once more, raining kisses across her face and down her neck, pausing to pay special attention to her breasts as his hands roamed over her bare skin. Her chill from earlier was long-gone and she felt like she was burning up with every well-placed touch and searing kiss from him.

Tugging on her earlobe with his teeth, pulling a shaky sigh of pleasure from her, he whispered in her ear.

“Hold on to the headboard and put your knees on either side of my head, sweetheart.”

Emma pulled back to look at him, her eyes glassy with desire.

“But you already-”

“Aye, and I’m going to again. Give me a little time to recover from that wicked mouth of yours, and let me put mine to good use.”

Emma swallowed hard, stomach clenching at his words. She wasn’t entirely sure she was going to survive the night, at this rate. And she remembered their first time, in his hotel room, wondering if he was trying to kill her with pleasure. This time was even better, and she hadn’t thought that was possible.

He guided her upwards then, shuffling so that his head was once again between her legs. She could feel her cheeks blazing as she looked down at him.

“I’ve uh-...I’ve never done this before…”

She mumbled, gripping the headboard til her knuckles turned white. Most of her one night stands hadn’t even offered to go down on her (not that she would have accepted the offer anyway, too unnerved by the level of intimacy that tended to lend itself to, but still). Some barely even did more to warm her up than shove a finger or two inside her before focusing on getting off themselves. So actually riding a guy’s face had definitely not been something she’d been able to tick off on her sexual acts checklist. Until now. And just the anticipation of it was driving her wild. Killian hadn’t even touched her yet and she already felt like she was one swipe of his tongue away from falling over the edge for the third time. 

Killian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at her confession, which quickly turned into a frown. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and turned his head to press a tender kiss to her trembling thigh before once again meeting her gaze.

“Then every other man you’ve been with was an utter fool.”

With that, he pulled her down to his mouth and set about devouring her as though she was the most delicious meal he’d ever had the fortune of tasting. She cried out, toes curling and her entire body tensing under his pleasurable onslaught. It didn’t take very long for her to feel the telltale signs of her third impending orgasm, and with his tongue thrusting inside her, he seemed to feel it too, because his fingers found her bundle of nerves then and she screamed, her body convulsing and her head thrown back.

The next thing she was aware of was Killian’s hand stroking her hair from her face, and her eyes fluttered open. He was sat on the edge of the bed beside her, gazing at her with the softest smile as he offered her a glass of water.

“What...did I black out?”

She asked, her body feeling heavy and sated as she sat up. He chuckled as she took the glass of water and gulped it down.

“Aye, just for a minute or so. I’ll admit, I’ve never managed to make a woman pass out with an orgasm before. It’s definitely given my ego a bit of a stroke. You alright?”

Emma placed the glass down on her bedside table, smiling and shaking her head in disbelief.

“Well, for what it’s worth, no man has ever made me pass out with an orgasm before either. Then again, no man has ever given me three of them in one night before, either. So your ego deserves a stroke.”

He cupped her cheek and gently brought his lips to hers then, another deep, tender kiss that made her sigh dreamily into it. She’d never been kissed as thoroughly either. He was almost definitely ruining her for every other man in the future.

Feeling a knot tighten in her stomach at the idea of ever being with another man, a man who wasn’t Killian Jones, Emma broke the kiss and looked away. He immediately noticed the change in her demeanor and tilted her chin back towards him with the gentle encouragement of his fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong, lass? Where did you go just now?”

She reluctantly met his gaze and shook her head.

“Nowhere. Kiss me again. Please?”

He hesitated, clearly considering pushing her for a real answer, but deciding against it and acquiescing to her request instead. This time, she took charge, her kiss demanding and needy, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. She tugged him fully onto the bed and yanked him down on top of her, writhing and panting, so easily turned on and letting loose weeks’ worth of sexual tension between them.

“Mmm, Emma-” he mumbled against her lips, “Slow down…”

“Condom.”

“Emma-”

“Please, Killian! Just fuck me again. I need you to fuck me.”

Her tone was desperate, pleading, and her voice cracked, tears in her eyes when he leaned back to look at her. He stilled, frowning with concern, and shook his head.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but he gave her a look that told her he didn’t believe that for a second, and she deflated, “I-I...just...this is all we have. And pretty soon we’re gonna go our separate ways and I just want to...I want to enjoy this while I can.”

She saw the understanding dawn on his face and he looked away, trying to compose himself. After a few endless seconds, he met her gaze once more and nodded, resuming their kiss. She sobbed in relief, widening her legs to allow him to settle between them more comfortably. She could feel him hardening as they continued to kiss desperately, and she blindly fumbled for the condom she’d grabbed earlier. Once she found it, she wasted no time in ripping it open and rolling it on, lining him up and waiting for the blessed relief of him sinking into her once again.

He wasn’t moving though, the tip of him resting at her entrance as she finally looked up at him expectantly. His gaze was soft and tender, and her heart skipped with the fear that he might say something he couldn’t take back, something that would have her walls flying up and fear gripping her. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave her a shaky smile.

“If it’s alright with you, Swan...I don’t wish to ‘fuck you’ this time.”

She looked at him in confusion, unable to decipher his words when her mind was so fogged with arousal. He didn’t wait for her to respond though, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before continuing.

“I’d like to make love to you. Treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and show you how good it can be, when it’s more than just a quick fuck.”

Emma’s throat went dry as she stared at him, unable to quite believe this man was real. No one had ever taken such care with her, or worshipped her body the way he had done both times they’d fallen into bed together. And now here he was, telling her he wanted to  _ make love _ to her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done that before, even with Neal. 

She’d thought she’d loved him, but she was just a naive kid back then, and in hindsight, she wasn’t sure anyone could legitimately pass off fucking in the backseat of a car, in rest-stop bathrooms, or in dirty motel rooms as ‘making love’ in any kind of way. Especially when he was the only one who ever actually got off.

“Is that okay, love?”

Killian prompted, a flash of uncertainty crossing his face and snapping her out of her thoughts. She nodded quickly, knowing her voice would crack if she tried to verbalize her consent. His smile was back, and he leaned in to kiss her again, the tip of him finally pushing inside her as he did so.

She gasped into his mouth, relishing the thick drag of him as he slowly filled her, and once he was fully seated, he stopped. Her walls fluttered around him and his nostrils flared with the effort of reining himself in. He wanted to go slow, to savor every second inside her and make it last. 

He knew their mission could potentially end any day, and their future was uncertain, at best. She’d been very clear about not being one for relationships, and even though he knew realistically that their time together had a deadline, he wanted to give her all the experiences she’d never been afforded before. At least those he was capable of giving her. Like the fancy dates and having someone make love to her, putting her pleasure before their own.

Shifting his hands, he found hers gripping the blankets and gently encouraged her to interlace her fingers with his. She did so, and he squeezed her hands gently, guiding them above their heads and beginning to move with long, slow drags that had her moaning softly and arching her back off the bed.

He kissed his way down her neck, nuzzling into the juncture where her neck met her shoulder and inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut that he now always associated with her. He kept his thrusts slow and controlled, whispering into her skin how good she felt, and how perfect she was, how she was driving him crazy and how he couldn’t get enough of her. She whined in response, her hips restlessly rolling beneath his until finally she pulled one of her hands out of his grasp and slipped it between them.

A spark of heat flickered up his spine as he looked down to watch her touch herself.

“Fuckin’ hell, darling, you have no idea what that does to a man…”

He choked out, moving slightly so that he was kneeling between her legs, still buried deep inside her, but now able to watch her pleasure herself while he tried his best to maintain his rhythm. He faltered when she raised her hips, fucking herself up against him, but reluctantly gripped her hips, forcing her to slow down. 

She whimpered in protest, sweat beading on her skin with the effort it took to go slow when her heart was hammering and her entire body felt wound up so tightly it bordered on painful.

“Keep touching yourself. I want to see how you get yourself off in the shower, thinking of me.”

Emma did as he bid, her eyes falling closed as she worked herself up higher, the sensation enhanced by every thrust of his hips. It didn’t take long for her to teeter on the edge, panting hard and bowing off the bed as she came for the fourth time that night, crashing over her in waves. It wasn’t as violent as her earlier orgasm, but it lasted longer, drawing out with little aftershocks and making her whole body feel like it was floating.

Killian continued to move, little grunts falling from his lips as he chased his release once again. His eyes roamed her body, moving from her face to her breasts, across the toned flatness of her stomach, and down to where her fingers rested over where they were joined. She opened her eyes and watched him, her cheeks flushing at the rapturous way he was drinking in every detail.

She moved her hands to her breasts then, and his gaze snapped up, jaw clenching as she smirked and fondled them, putting on a little show that she knew would have him racing to completion.

“Come for me, Killian. I wanna feel you come inside me.”

She purred, humming in satisfaction as he cursed and thrust roughly, losing his rhythm for a moment. He sped up slightly, eyes moving from her face to her breasts and back, and then he shifted, leaning forward to rest on his elbows, and finding her lips with his own.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her legs up either side of his hips, locking her ankles at the small of his back and clinging to him. He gasped into her mouth, fucking her into the bed with a few final thrusts before he stiffened and she once again felt her walls clenching around him as he pulsed and filled the condom with his seed.

He collapsed on top of her, and she didn’t move, savoring the weight of him and absently threading her fingers through his hair, playing with the soft strands as they both tried to remember how to breathe. Killian rolled off her a few moments later, getting rid of the condom and muttering apologies for crushing her. She shook her head and smiled sleepily, not really knowing how to articulate the fact that she  _ liked _ having the comforting weight of him on top of her like that.

They lay side by side in the quiet of their bedroom then, the air smelling like sex. Their bodies were both heavy with exhaustion and Killian turned to her warily, half-dreading her pulling away now and shutting him out. She couldn’t run off like she had after their first time, but she could shut him out emotionally, and he was hoping with everything in him that she wasn’t about to do that.

“You alright, love?”

He said tentatively, and she turned her head to meet his gaze. She gave him a sleepy smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good. Better than good. You got me off  _ four _ times tonight, for Christ’s sake,” she laughed hoarsely, and he gave her a lopsided, smug grin, “But if that’s your way of asking me if I’m about to bolt, then you don’t have to worry, I’m not going anywhere. Physically or emotionally.”

She wriggled to pull the covers over both of them then, and shuffled closer to him, turning so her back was pressed against his chest. He eagerly complied with her unspoken request, spooning her and pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. She reached for his arm and pulled it around her waist, playing with his fingers and sighing softly.

“I’m just...happy. It surprises me sometimes. Because I’ve only known you for, what, a little over two weeks? But it feels like a lifetime. And we’re only living here, playing house, to catch a serial killer, yet here I am...feeling  _ happy _ . Is it wrong?”

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, and Killian held her tighter. She could feel him shaking his head behind her.

“It’s not wrong. Sometimes we find things we weren’t expecting in the most unlikely places. I certainly never expected to fall-...”

He cut himself off, and she felt him tense up as though waiting for her to pull away. She knew exactly what he was about to say, and yet...she didn’t want to run. She wasn’t ready to put her own feelings into words, but she also didn’t feel the sense of panic swirling in her gut the way she half-expected to.

Pulling his arm tighter around her again, she waited until he started to relax again before she found her voice.

“I’m glad I met you, Killian Jones.”

She whispered into the silence of the room, and he shifted slightly, encouraging her to turn her head and allow him to kiss her soundly on the lips. When he broke the kiss and settled behind her again, his solid warmth against her back, he pressed another soft kiss to her shoulder.

“And I you, Emma Swan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. That's the smuttiest chapter I've ever written! I was initially going to continue with the morning after etc, but I decided to leave it on a feelsy vibe and leave that til the next chapter.
> 
> The usual thanks to my favorite people for the continued support. The reviews on here and FFNet after the last chapter were phenomenal and I cannot thank you all enough for that. I so appreciate anyone who takes the time to leave their feedback. It means the world to every fic writer, me included.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's smut again. Blame Irene.

****Will was not a morning person. Especially when he’d had a bit too much to drink the night before, to drown out the sounds of his best friend’s moans of pleasure that had been echoing in his head on loop.

He adored Emma, and admittedly when they’d first met he’d fancied her. Who wouldn’t, he’d reasoned. She was gorgeous, whip-smart and knew how to kick ass even if her opponent was three times her size, while making it look like child’s play. He’d flirted playfully in the early days of their partnership and she’d always shot him down with a roll of her eyes or a withering glare, or occasionally with a sarcastic retort of her own. She’d wearily requested David paired her with someone else for weeks, but they grew on one another.

She had a quick wit and a sharp tongue that he’d always admired, and he felt fiercely protective of her, just as he knew she did of him. He’d fantastized about her plenty times, usually when they’d butted heads and had a heated difference of opinion over something. He’d even admitted that secret to her just a few weeks earlier. But their partnership was purely platonic, so occasionally giving her the starring role in a dirty fantasy was a far cry from _actually_ hearing and seeing her in the midst of foreplay. Especially when it was with a man Will was pretty sure wouldn’t look out of place in some high quality pornos, with his rugged good looks and lean physique.

And there was no doubt they looked good together, with her fair complexion and golden locks contrasting so well with his tanned skin and dark hair. But Will _really_ didn’t need the image of Killian’s dark head between Emma’s pale thighs seared into his brain for all eternity. It was a small mercy that he hadn’t seen more, but even the little he had witnessed was enough to haunt his dreams.

It wasn’t often he woke up annoyed at being aroused, but he _refused_ to get himself off to the image of Emma and Killian. It felt _wrong_. So, instead, he took a cold shower and reluctantly got ready for work. At 6:30am, it was hours earlier than he was usually up, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get anymore sleep even if he tried.

Once he’d showered, he headed to the station, bypassing his usual breakfast stop at Granny’s. He really wasn’t hungry and he didn’t want an interrogation from Ruby, who would instantly be able to tell something was off with him. So he grabbed a large coffee from the station’s coffee cart in the parking lot, and wearily made his way up to the bullpen.

When he arrived, a little after 7:30am, David was already in his office, but otherwise there was no one around yet, other than the rookie who’d taken over for him the night before. David did a double take when he caught sight of Will arriving and emerged from his office with a frown.

“I didn’t see any pigs flying around when I came in this morning.”

He commented, making his way over to Will’s desk. He forced a cheery grin for his boss, but he knew David saw right through it.

“I’m glad you’re here so early. We need to talk.”

Will gulped down some of his coffee, steeling himself, and gave a curt nod. He already had a feeling he knew what it was about, and he’d been dreading it since he woke up. Following David into his office, he slouched down into one of the chairs and sighed.

“I assume you know what I’m going to ask you.”

Will grimaced, but gave a nonchalant shrug and David levelled a stern gaze on him. He felt like he was back in high school, being dragged into the Principal’s office for raiding the vending machines when he’d figured out that shaking them meant he didn’t have to pay for snacks.

“Imagine my surprise when i come in this morning, to Billy informing me that one of the cameras has been turned off.”

“Who the bloody ‘ell is Billy?”

Will snarked, scuffing his shoes against the worn-out hardwood floor. David made a noise of frustration and perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded, glowering at his subordinate.

“The night shift rookie who took direct orders from _you_ not to turn one of the cameras back on. Care to explain yourself, Scarlet?”

“Not really.”

“Will. What the hell are you playing at? Those cameras are set up to keep Emma safe. You know what’s at stake; she could’ve been in danger and we wouldn’t have known-”

“She was screaming for an entirely different reason last night.”

He muttered under his breath, not quite loud enough for David to hear properly, and he frowned in confusion.

“What did you say?”

“Nowt.”

“Will!”

“A’ight! She and Killian were fuckin’, okay?! I didn’t wanna sit there and watch ‘em like some fuckin’ creepy little perv, so I turned it off. And I messed around with it an’ erased the bit that got recorded. Then when the rookie - _Bobby_ or whatever he’s called - got ‘ere, I told him to leave that camera off. I don’t know ‘im and I didn’t fancy the idea of anyone sittin’ and watchin’ Emma like that.”

David’s face was like thunder, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to regain his ability to form words. Will sighed.

“I ‘ad a feelin’ they’d forgot about the cameras the other day. But I didn’t think...I woulda texted her and reminded her about ‘em if I’d known they were gonna end up-”

“Alright. You don’t need to say it again.”

David snapped, pacing the room and running a hand through his hair. Will wasn’t sure if his face was so red with embarrassment or anger, so he remained quiet, waiting for an order or a dismissal from the office.

“Does she know? About what you saw, I mean.”

“Well, I text her as soon as I’d shut off the camera and mic. Depends if she read the messages yet.”

Will shrugged and David heaved a sigh of frustration, moving to drop down heavily into his chair and shaking his head.

“What is she thinking? This is all going to end in tears.”

“She likes him. A lot. You know she ain’t one for jumpin’ into the sack with someone she can’t walk out on as soon as the deed’s done. She never goes back to the same bloke twice, so this one must be different to her.”

David narrowed his eyes, and Will felt his stomach drop as he realized what he’d inadvertently said.

“What do you mean, ‘twice’?”

“Uh...nowt. I just meant...uh...that if they do it again...it’ll be twice. Ha. Uh...I should get back to work-”

He went to stand, eager to escape before his boss intensified the interrogation. He’d never been a particularly good liar, but he didn’t want to betray Emma’s trust. Granted, she’d only admitted she’d slept with Killian the first time because he’d figured it out himself, but still. It somehow felt like he was snitching on his big sister, and he was no snitch.

“Sit. Down.”

David growled, and Will reluctantly did so. If Emma was his big sister, then David was certainly his strict father. It was a weird, dysfunctional family dynamic they had going after so many years working together, and he didn’t hate it. Until moments like this.

“I don’t know owt.”

Will said defensively, folding his arms. David studied him with narrowed eyes for endlessly long seconds before his glare softened slightly, tone a little less harsh than before.

“You do. And you don’t want to betray her trust if she told you something in confidence. I respect that. I know how close the two of you are, and that you want to protect her. I even agree that turning off that camera was the right thing to do. I probably would have done the same...before driving over there and putting a stop to it myself. But as someone who cares about her just as much as you do, and as the person responsible for her wellbeing from this end, while she’s out there trying to bait a killer...I need to know what’s going on.”

Will hesitated, scrubbing a hand over his face as his shoulders slumped in defeat. He had no doubt that, had David been in his shoes the night before, he would have gone straight over there and banged on their front door to put a stop to what was going on in the bedroom. But he also knew that David was the one with the ultimate responsibility of maintaining her safety behind the scenes. And he took that responsibility very seriously.

“She’s slept with ‘im before,” Will muttered, still reluctant, “The night before his lot took over the case, she went home from the pub with ‘im. She didn’t know who he was then, obviously. That’s why things were so icy between ‘em at first. She ain’t used to dealin’ with seein’ her one night stands again.”

David leaned back in his chair, an exasperated expression on his face as Will continued.

“I thought she mighta backed outta this whole undercover thing after he said he’d go into the field with her. And I don’t think she planned on likin’ him back, but she does. I can tell by the way she looks at ‘im sometimes. She don’t look at no one else like that.”

He shrugged noncommittally, not wanting to put labels on what may or may not be blossoming between Emma and Killian. It wasn’t his business, and he knew Emma wouldn’t appreciate him speculating about her feelings when he suspected she may not even be sure of them herself yet.

“Alright, alright. I get it. And I suppose she’s a grown woman and there’s no...rules against what they’re doing. I just think it’s reckless of them to allow themselves to be distracted. They know they’ve put themselves into a dangerous situation and they should be focusing on the case.”

“Dave, mate...Emma’s a workaholic. And you’re always the one tryin’ to push her into doin’ something non-work-related. Though really, I dunno if doin’ Killian really counts as-”

“Will! Go. That is _not_ helpful.”

Will chuckled and waggled his eyebrows at David as he stood up and made for the door. It hadn’t gone as badly as he’d feared, but he wasn’t relishing Emma finding out that David knew about _both_ of her dalliances with Killian. He supposed he’d just have to jump off that bridge when he came to it, and he’d simply get on with his work for the morning while he waited for her inevitable phone call.

* * *

**_CS_ **

* * *

The first thing Emma was aware of as consciousness slowly returned to her, was the feeling of being watched. It wasn't wholly unpleasant, but sat on the edges of her awareness while her limbs slowly followed her into wakefulness.

She kept her eyes closed, clinging to the remnants of the best sleep she'd had in years. Her body felt sore and pleasantly used, as muscles she'd forgotten about protested her attempt to shift position.

She was lying on her stomach with her head turned inwards, having shifted from the warm cocoon of Killian’s arms sometime through the night. The warmth and comfort of the bed was doing nothing to convince her to properly wake up. A small smile twitched at the corners of her lips, but still, her eyes remained closed.

“Do you always watch your lovers sleep? Cos it's creepy. Stop it.”

She said playfully, voice husky with sleep. She heard Killian laugh softly, the bed vibrating ever so slightly with it, and Emma finally cracked an eye open. He was lying on his side, propped up on his elbow facing her, and there was no question about whether or not he'd been watching her sleep.

“Good morning to you too, Swan,” he smirked, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead, “And I do so love the sound of you calling us lovers.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat up immediately, only just realizing the label she'd so easily given them. Snorting to cover the fact that her heart was suddenly racing, she turned her head and muttered about it being “too early”.

But Killian had other ideas. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, grazing his teeth gently over the soft skin, and she sighed as her body instinctively reacted to him. Turning onto her back and doing her best to shoot him a glare (it definitely fell flat), she quickly gave up pretending not to be affected by him.

The way he was looking at her, as though she was the only thing he wanted for breakfast, had her blood humming pleasantly under her skin, despite the fact that her muscles were protesting every movement she made. She bit her lip, the charged air in the room palpable to both of them, she was sure. Glancing at the clock over his shoulder, Emma turned on her side to face him, ignoring the twinges from her thighs and abs.

“It’s 7am. Aren’t you usually up and making us coffee by now?”

She jabbed his chest with her finger, just for an excuse to touch him, if she was being honest with herself. He took the opportunity to take her hand and lace their fingers together, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her hand, holding her eye contact the whole time.

“If that was a hint that the Lady Swan requires caffeine, then I am more than happy to oblige.”

He chuckled, and went to move away. But she tightened their joined hands and he considered her with a curious but interested gaze.

“How about we leave the coffee for a bit later and you join me in the shower?”

She suggested coyly, sounding much more confident in her offer than she actually felt. “The morning after” wasn't something she had much experience with. She never stayed the night, so there was no awkward smalltalk in the harsh light of day to deal with. And definitely no morning sex.

The night before, as she'd drifted off, a part of her had been worried she'd be gripped with panic and a crippling need to _get out_ as fast as possible upon waking. She didn't _want_ to feel that, but she knew herself pretty well and she was acutely aware of how dysfunctional she was when it came to normal adult interactions with someone she'd spent the night with. Her instinctive panic upon seeing Killian the day after their first night spent together, being a perfect example.

But there was no panic. No desperate, clawing sensation in her throat. No crushing sense of claustrophobia or need to avoid Killian for the rest of forever. No, in fact, it was the opposite, for the first time in her life. She woke up beside a man who’d worshipped her body in ways she’d never even known were possible, and all she could think of was how devastatingly handsome he looked with sleepy eyes and sex hair.

She didn't feel panic. Instead, there was just a gently simmering buzz of arousal making her skin flush, and an itch in her fingers to touch him again, to thread her fingers in his chest hair and feel his skin against hers again.

His eyes had darkened, and it was a moment before he found words, clearly taken aback by her suggestion but not at all opposed to it. He pulled her body flush against his in one quick motion and she squeaked in surprise. Kissing her neck, and then across her shoulder, he paused before pulling back to look into her eyes.

“I do believe I may be dreaming right now, but I'm certainly not going to turn down the offer of seeing you wet and naked for me to start off my day.”

Emma felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks again and pressed her face into his neck, laughing softly and shaking her head.

“I was wet and naked for you last night, no shower needed.”

She quipped, yelping when he spanked her ass lightly, catching her off guard. She disentangled herself from him then, slipping out of her side of the bed and walking toward their bathroom, unashamedly naked and adding just the slightest, tantalizing sway to her hips, knowing his eyes were drinking her in, watching every move.

When she reached the bathroom door, she looked over her shoulder at him with a smoldering smirk, and within seconds he was scrambling out of bed to chase her into the bathroom.

He reached the doorway and paused, watching her hungrily as she leaned in to turn on the shower. She moved back to the sink and grabbed her toothbrush then, doing her best to act as casual as possible, despite his gaze burning her up as she stood in front of the large mirror and sink, brushing her teeth, naked as the day she was born.

Killian stepped closer, purposefully pressing himself to her back and letting her feel the hard length of him against her ass as he reached around her and took his own toothbrush. His arms crowded her in when he reached for the toothpaste with his other hand, keeping his gaze on her in the mirror the entire time. There was a flush on her chest, rising up her neck, and he couldn’t resist pressing her kiss to the tender skin at the juncture of neck and shoulder, revelling in the way her breathing visibly hitched. She faltered, standing perfectly still for a moment until she regained her senses and continued to brush her teeth.

He stepped back, satisfied that he’d managed to throw her off her game momentarily, and moved to stand beside her, his smirk reaching his eyes as he gazed mischievously at her in the mirror as they continued to brush in silence. She shook her head at the sparkle in his eyes, leaning forward to spit and almost headbutting the tap when she felt his hand suddenly squeeze her ass.

Snapping her gaze back at him, she attempted to scowl but it didn’t hold any real power, and he quickly spit too, before stepping back into her personal space and pressing her up against the vanity, eyes now black with desire.

“You can’t bend over naked in front of a man when you have an arse as delectable as yours, and expect me to be able to hold it together, love.”

He growled, and Emma shivered, swallowing hard when he tossed the toothbrush aside and moved his hands to her hips, hoisting her up to perch on the edge of the vanity. She spread her legs instinctively and locked her ankles behind his back when he stepped between them. Their lips met in a passionate and needy kiss, both of them groaning into it, hearts pounding and hands wandering.

“God, I want you so much.”

He mumbled against her lips, and she whined in response, needing friction desperately but unable to rock her hips against him as much as she wanted to. He was pressed firmly between her legs, and she had no doubt he could feel what he was doing to her just as easily as she could feel what she was doing to him.

“Shower.”

She whimpered as he kissed down her neck, his hands firmly squeezing her ass, as she suddenly remembered that they’d left the water running. He pulled back for a brief moment to glance over at the shower, and then yanked her even more firmly against him, lifting her off the vanity and carrying her over to the shower.

He reluctantly set her down so they could step into the shower together, wanting to avoid an accident if he slipped while holding her up. She eagerly stepped under the spray, her body thrumming with desire and the ache between her legs making her knees feel weak. Tilting her head under the stream of hot water to wet her hair, she then wiped the water from her face and stepped aside to allow Killian to do the same.

He wasted no time in pressing her up against the shower wall though, desperate to continue what they’d started, and she moaned loudly when he moved his mouth to her breasts, swirling his tongue around each of her nipples in turn and gently dragging his teeth over them. She shuddered under his ministrations, raking her hands through his wet hair and lightly dragging her nails against his scalp.

Killian suddenly dropped to his knees, and Emma bit her lip, heat pulsing through her when he lifted on of her legs over his shoulder and wasted no time in devouring her until she was a shivering, whimpering mess falling apart above him. She was still coming down from her first high when he stood up and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply and stealing her breath again.

“Fuck, you’re way too good at that…”

She sighed into his mouth and felt him grin in self-satisfaction. The smug look was quickly wiped off his face when he felt her hand grip him though. With some expert twists of her wrist, she had him panting, but he stopped her when she tried to drop to her knees.

“First thing in a morning, love, I’m not going to last a minute if you use that wicked mouth of yours on me. And I’d much rather be buried inside you before it’s Game Over.”

Emma smiled coyly at him but nodded, releasing him and glancing over at the small, built-in bench in the far corner of the shower cubicle. Moving out of his arms, his curious gaze following her, Emma stepped closer to the bench and looked over her shoulder at Killian with a sultry smirk. Lifting her hands and pressing them flat against the wall opposite the shower, she bent forward and arched her back a little. He got the message, immediately stepping forward and grabbing her hips, growling as he leaned over her and nipped her shoulder, sliding his hands up her body and around to cup her breasts and thumb at her nipples.

“Oh, God, just fuck me already, Killian. _Please_.”

Emma moaned, eyes falling closed as she let the pleasure of his touch wash over her. He stilled, cock nestled against her ass, and she looked back at him in confusion.

“What? Why are you stopping?”

She asked frantically and he reached up to scratch his ear, the bashful action completely at odds with the fact that they were naked and pressed against one another rather intimately.

“I-uh....what about...do you want me to get a condom from the bedroom?”

He asked softly, and Emma froze. She hadn’t thought about that, but the fact that he’d stopped them in their tracks just to remind her...it made her heart flutter and she bit her lip. Glancing toward the bedroom, she made a decision and straightened up, turning to face him and stepping forward into his arms. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips and smiled up at him a little shyly.

“I have an IUD, and I take birth control pills. And...I trust you. I know the last time we did it without, it was an oversight and I couldn’t believe I’d been that reckless when I didn’t even know you. But this time...I’m okay with it. If you are.”

Killian stared at her, astounded by the trust she was placing in him. He knew she’d had an unplanned pregnancy before, and that choosing to give him this was a huge leap of faith on her part. He was so awed, in fact, that he almost said something he knew she wasn’t anywhere near ready to hear. To fight back the words that were burning his tongue, he surged forward and claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss.

She gasped into it, but responded quickly, opening for him as he deepened the kiss. Backing her up, he pressed her against the wall and lifted her up effortlessly, once again in the position they’d been in earlier. But this time, he shifted so that he was lined up at her entrance, and then paused. Meeting her gaze, he waited for permission, wanting to be sure that she was okay with foregoing the extra protection. When she nodded, holding her breath and waiting for him to thrust home, he steadied himself and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, before giving them what they both needed, and sinking into her.

She cried out against his lips, her thighs trembling against his hips, and he stilled, letting her get used to his size again. They’d had quite the workout the night before, and he knew she was probably as sore as he was, so he took it slow.

Being inside her again, and able to feel _everything_ , without the barrier of a condom, had him on the edge almost immediately. But he held it off, intent on bringing her to completion again before he found his own release.

“M-move, Killian. You need to move.”

She pleaded, her nails creating little crescent indentations on his shoulders as she trembled in his arms. He heeded her request and pulled almost all the way out before slamming home, a guttural cry of pleasure tearing from her throat and her head tipping back against the tiled wall. He kept his stokes long and deep, canting his hips and rocking them against her in a strong rhythm that had Emma clawing at his back and trying to ride him faster as she chased her high.

He slowed his strokes and let her take the lead, watching with rapt attention as she rolled her hips, the muscles in her thighs and abs quivering with the effort and her eyes closed in concentration. He could tell as she neared the edge, her breath catching and her movements becoming jerky and less coordinated, soft moans falling from her lips and her inner walls fluttering around him.

He cursed under his breath, trying to stop himself from falling with her, and as he felt her body tense up completely, back arched with a gasped, “oh god, I’m coming…”, Killian shifted to hold her up with one arm, enabling him to slip his free hand between them. She hadn’t yet come down from her high, but as his fingers found her clit with unerring accuracy, she choked on a moan and her eyes snapped open, finding his dark gaze and widening in shock.

“Come on, lass, give me another.”

She was still trembling from her orgasm, but his fingers pressing against her so suddenly sent her headfirst into another, and her entire body was suffused in bliss once more. Her legs were twitching and it took a few moments to realize that she was crying out rather loudly, her abs contracting over and over again as he kept circling his fingers against her.

When she knew she couldn’t take anymore, she unlocked her legs and somehow managed to stay upright as her feet hit the tiled floor and he slipped out of her. Killian’s arms were around her then, holding her steady, which she was more than a little grateful for considering the fact that she was shaking like a leaf. Staring up at him, it took Emma a moment to be able to form words.

“I...two...wow. I’ve never...I didn’t even think I could…”

Killian smirked at her inability to speak properly, dipping down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“There’s only one rule for multiple orgasms, love. Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She stared at him, in awe of the things he could do to her and the way her body responded so deliciously to every touch he administered. If she believed in the notion of two people being made for each other, she would absolutely think that perhaps her body was made for his touch.

Leaning up to kiss him again, she nipped at his bottom lip and pressed herself against his front. She felt the rumble in his throat as he responded to her, and before she could blink, he had her pressed against the tiled wall once more, hands roaming her wet body, unable to get enough of touching her.

“Turn around love. Let me have you again.”

He growled next to her ear and she shuddered involuntarily, but did as he asked. On shaky legs, she turned, resuming the position she’d been in earlier, bent slightly forward with her hands braced against the wall. Smiling over her shoulder at him, still feeling a little lightheaded from her first ever multiple orgasm, body buzzing pleasantly with the afterglow, she turned her hips suggestively. He wasted no time, lining himself up and sinking into her again, burying himself to the hilt and groaning as pleasure consumed him.

He began to thrust slowly, with hard, deep strokes, just like before, his hands gripping her hips roughly. She’d probably have fingerprint bruises the next day, but neither could bring themselves to care. She encouraged him by pushing her hips back to meet his thrusts, a litany of praise falling from his lips as she did so, and answering moans falling from hers.

They got lost in the pleasure of it all, paying no mind to the fact that the water had started to run cold behind them. His thrusts sped up, his coordination slipping as he felt his release tingling at the base of his spine and the tops of his thighs. He grabbed Emma’s leg then, without faltering, and encouraged her to put her foot on the built-in bench. The change in angle made him hit her deeper and she gasped, the air backing up in her lungs and stars dancing in front of her eyes.

“Think you can give me one more, Swan?”

He choked out, so close that his voice trembled with the effort to hold back. She nodded frantically, slipping her hand between her legs and giving herself the extra bit of stimulation she needed.

“Close...I’m close...”

She whispered, her legs shaking, and then she was falling again, white light blurring her vision with the force of it. He couldn’t hold back any longer, the feeling of her inner walls fluttering and gripping him like a vice too much for him to resist. He thrust deeply one last time and stilled, groaning and cursing as he shot his release deep inside her, the pulses seemingly endless in one of the strongest orgasms he’d ever had.

They remained joined for long moments, both trying to catch their breath and find their balance. He finally slipped from her and she whimpered with the loss, swallowing thickly as she felt his release slipping down her thigh. It was the first time she’d allowed a man to finish inside her since…

Squeezing her eyes shut, she silently cursed herself for letting her mind go _there_ , and Killian seemed to sense the tension that had suddenly stiffened her shoulders. He encouraged her to turn and face him, and she did so somewhat reluctantly.

“Did I...do something wrong, love? Was I not supposed to...y’know…”

Emma quickly shook her head, dispelling his worries and cupping his cheek gently. She gave him a shaky smile, trying to reassure him.

“No, no, I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just...not used to...that.”

She laughed nervously, shaking her head again and feeling inexplicably awkward. They’d done unspeakably decadent things to each others’ bodies over the last 12 hours, yet she suddenly felt shy and awkward standing before him in the shower.

She reached around him to find the water running cold now, but not too cold that it was uncomfortable against her overheated skin when she side-stepped him to stand underneath the spray. He watched her carefully, cautious as he moved close enough to let the water hit him too. She met his gaze with a small smile and he seemed to relax a little, tentatively drawing her into his arms and pressing a kiss into her wet hair when she nuzzled into his neck. They stood in comfortable silence beneath the cool water and allowed themselves to enjoy a quiet moment.

* * *

  ** _CS_**

* * *

 After cleaning up with a proper shower, drying off and getting dressed, Emma and Killian headed downstairs, both famished after their morning _workout_. Killian set to work rustling up some bacon and waffles, while Emma set the coffee machine. After setting down two steaming mugs of coffee and a glass of OJ each on the breakfast bar, she grabbed her phone to check for any texts or missed calls.

There were four missed calls from David, and a a number of texts from Will. With her heart jumping at the thought that maybe there’d been a lucky break in the case, Emma quickly unlocked her phone and opened Will’s texts.

But as quickly as her heart had jumped, it was sinking, and as her eyes scanned over the words, her mouth went dry. A swirling sense of panic erupted in her gut and her chest constricted painfully. Looking up, her gaze found the tiny camera she knew was nestled into the intricate design of a candle holder high on one of the kitchen shelves.

“What’s wrong, Swan? You’ve gone pale.”

Killian suddenly said, snapping Emma out of her panicked reverie. She met his gaze, swallowing hard, and when she spoke, her voice was barely more than a choked whisper. She looked back down at her phone again, her throat tightening as she reread the words in front of her.

“The cameras…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. More steamy stuff. Did anyone spot the canon CS dialogue that I sexed up just a little?? LOL!  
> And Emma's walls are slipping further and further with everyday she spends at Killian's side...but will it last?


	14. Chapter 14

 

> ****_Emma fuckin ell, there’s cameras in your room, you silly prat!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Use a different bloody bedroom!!!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Well...I’m guessin you ain’t gonna stop your sexy funtimes to check your phone and USE A DIFFERENT BEDROOM._
> 
>  
> 
> _You’re so fuckin lucky I ain’t David or he’d be over there physically separatin you two by now. BTW I turned the cameras and the mics off. So...enjoy, I guess._
> 
>  
> 
> _I think I just threw up in me mouth cos all I can hear in me head is your moanin an groanin now. I’m deffo havin nightmares tonight so thanks for that._
> 
>  
> 
> _Rookie’s takin over from me now and I’ve threatened his most precious body parts if he turns on the bedroom camera again. Hopin you’ve worn each other out by now though just in case he’s a twat and turns it on._

 

Emma could hear the blood rushing in her ears, her heart having lodged itself somewhere in her throat as her eyes scanned the texts, time-stamped over a few hours the night before. Her phone had been left forgotten about on the counter, no doubt repeatedly buzzing with the missed calls and texts from Will while she was otherwise-engaged with Killian.

“The cameras…”

She whispered, her chest feeling tight. A gentle hand on her shoulder brought her out of her panicked reverie and she met Killian’s concerned gaze with a shaky exhale. Her hands were trembling and a thick knot of dread and humiliation sat like a brick in her stomach.

“Emma?” Killian repeated for the third time, worried by the way the color had drained from her face and that she didn’t seem to have heard him calling her name, “What’s happened? Are you okay?”

She looked back down at her phone and up at Killian again, slightly dazed, her mouth suddenly dry, and shook her head. When she finally found her voice, it was as shaky as she felt.

“The cameras. In our bedroom. We forgot about the cameras...”

It was Killian’s turn for the horror of realization to wash over him, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed thickly. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss, and glanced around the kitchen, as though remembering at that moment just how wired up the place was. When they’d moved in, they’d purposefully chosen to hang out in the living room that wasn’t hooked up to cameras, just so they had one place of privacy and solitude. And yet, they’d found themselves getting so comfortable in their new living arrangements that they’d completely forgotten about the cameras and mics in many of the other rooms.

“I...I have to call Will. He was on security duty last night. He...saw us…”

Killian’s face flushed and he reached up to scratch behind his ear. The idea of anyone, nevermind Emma’s partner and best friend, seeing any of their activities from the previous night...it made his stomach churn and his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Emma turned away, moving into the living room to pace the floor as she waited for Will to answer her call.

“Finally. You two come up for air now then?”

Will answered the phone gruffly, but there was an undertone of humor there, and she knew he was using that to try and put her at ease despite everything. At any other time, she might have noted his efforts with appreciation, but right now she chose to bypass his teasing greeting.

“I’m so sorry, Will,” she started, her churning stomach and quick pulse making her a little breathless, “I-...we...we forgot about the cameras. How much....?”

“Well yeah, I figured that much, ya soft git. And if you’re asking ‘ow much did I see, the answer is ‘enough’. Enough to fuck me up. I mean, bloody hell, Emma. It was like seeing me sister-”

“Alright! Fuck, please tell me there’s no video.”

She said frantically, and Will sighed on the other end of the line.

“I’m not an idiot, mate. I deleted it when I turned the cameras off. Luckily it was before you got to the main event too. And for the record, I didn’t actually see nowt. I mean, I’m guessin’ you two got naked at some point-”

“Will,” Emma said warningly and he scoffed.

“Chill, would ya? I wasn’t payin’ attention, otherwise I woulda read the room and shut it off before I had to hear you moanin’ like a banshee. But all I saw was him goin’ downtown on ya, while you both still had yer clothes on. And I turned it off and deleted the recordin’ then.”

She breathed a slight sigh of relief. It was bad enough knowing he’d witnessed a snippet of their foreplay, but it could have been worse, she supposed.

“Does...David know? Have you spoken to him yet?”

Will hesitated and Emma’s heart sank once again. That was a _yes_ then. Closing her eyes, she took a fortifying deep breath. She felt like a teenager with in impending scolding after sneaking out to meet a boy or something. She’d never experienced that kind of situation growing up, but she figured this must be how teenagers with strict and protective parents must feel when they start testing boundaries. And she was a goddamn adult, for Christ’s sake.

“He’s, uh, well, y’know ‘ow Dave gets. Forgets he ain’t our dad, and all that. And he agreed I did the right thing by deletin’ the tape. Which, by the way, I want in writin’, ‘cause I think it might be the first time he’s agreed with my decision on summat.”

He chuckled, once again trying to dissipate the tension. Emma rubbed a hand over her face in despair, faintly registering the ringing of Killian’s phone and glancing over her shoulder as he answered it. Will was still rambling on, and her attention snapped back to him when she realized what he’d just said.

“Wait...did you just say he knows it’s the second time I’ve slept with Killian?! What the _fuck_ , Will?! How does he know that? What did you say?!”

She didn’t know whether to cry or laugh hysterically at this development.

“It was an accident, a’ight? I didn’t bloody mean to let it slip, I ain’t no snitch. But you know how he picks up on _everythin’_ , Swan. He put it together, even though I didn’t say nowt outright.”

She was definitely thinking she’d be choosing the cry option if he carried on talking, and her shoulders slumped, all the fight leaving her. She wanted to be angry at him for spilling something he’d been told in confidence (or rather, that he’d figured out and that she’d assumed he’d keep to himself), but she knew deep down he wouldn’t have revealed it on purpose. And David _was_ very perceptive. Sighing and shaking her head, she knew she was going to be needing some Advil later.

“Look, can we just forget this ever happened? And can you _please_ shut down that bedroom camera permanently? Not that...I-I don’t mean-”

Will chuckled again, and Emma could feel her cheeks heating up, glad for the small mercy that he couldn’t see her through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re gonna jump his bones again, Swan. I ain’t that dumb, and you’re a bad liar, so don’t even try. And believe me, I _wish_ I could forget it ‘appened. I was wishin’ for some brain bleach real bad last night, lemme tell ya. But it’s none of my business, ‘cause you’re a grown woman and ya can do what ya want. Or, well, in this case, who ya want.”

Emma groaned, cringing and wishing she could punch him in the arm the way she always would when he dropped an innuendo with a wiggle of his ridiculous eyebrows. She knew he was probably wiggling them right now, on the other end of the line, and it made her smile despite herself.

There was a pause and Will turned serious. He sighed, his voice soft when he spoke again.

“I miss you, y’know, ya silly bugger. I know it ain’t even been that long, and I’m bein’ a sap, but it sorta feels like you’re a thousand miles away, I s’ppose.”

Emma felt her throat tightening with emotion. Will was the only person she’d ever thought of as a best friend, and she suspected that if she’d met Killian under different circumstances, and somehow something had blossomed between them without the enforced closeness of being undercover together, then she would probably have talked to Will about it. She trusted him and he was often brutally honest; an objective perspective she could count on. And though he was no less protective than David, she knew he would always be more level-headed and reasonable if she confided in him about such matters.

The truth was though, in the years she and Will had been partners, she’d never dated anyone. So she’d never felt the desire to confide in him about that sort of thing, because no one had ever gotten under her skin or into her head the way Killian so easily had. And if she was hazarding a pretty good guess, she’d say Will probably knew there was way more to it than _just sex_ from seeing them interact over the last week or so. Especially because he also knew she’d slept with Killian before, and that she’d broken her rule about never sleeping with the same guy twice.  

“I miss you too, dumbass.”

She finally replied, voice soft and slightly choked.

“Good to know. And y’know ya can still talk to me, right? ‘Bout all this...stuff. Even while you’re out playin’ Mr. & Mrs. Smith.”

“Enough with the sappy shit now, Scarlet.”

Emma scolded, furiously blinking away the tears that were blurring her vision and trying to sound exasperated, rather than allowing him to hear the nervousness fluttering at the edge of her words. Behind her, as she glanced back, she saw Killian had the phone pressed to his ear and his cheeks were flushed as he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

“Sorry, sorry,” Will was laughing, “Anyhow, you’ll probably get a call from Dave at some point.”

“Yeah, I have a feeling he’s already giving Killian an earful right now. So I’m gonna go and cut this off before he says something that’ll make me want to throttle him.”

Will was laughing again, and they said quick goodbyes before Emma hung up and approached Killian. He looked flustered, keeping his eyes trained at a spot on the kitchen floor and still rubbing his neck as he made non-committal noises in response to David’s tirade on the other end.

“Give me the phone.”

Emma growled, and Killian looked up, startled. He wavered, shaking his head and mouthing that it was fine, he was handling it, but Emma simply held out her hand and scowled at him.

“David, mate, I’m going to cut you off right there, because I have Emma stood in front of me and I have the distinct feeling she’d like to speak to you,” there was a pause and then, “Aye. Yes. I’m well aware of how much you care about her-”

Emma snatched the phone from him then, anger bubbling in her chest and stiffening her shoulders.

“I don’t care how _well intentioned_ you’re trying to be, _Captain_ , you need to stop treating me like a goddamn teenager,” she snapped as soon as she pressed the phone to her ear, “I’m well aware we fucked up. But you _know_ I would never do anything to jeopardize _my_ case, and nothing we’ve done is against any rules. So back off, and stop trying to give Killian ‘the talk’ like he’s my fucking prom date or something. We slept together, he’s not _proposing_ , for God’s sake!”

Her face was red and she was shaking with a mixture of fury and embarrassment. The fact that her boss and her partner both knew about her _extra-curricular activities_ with Killian was kicking her urge to run into high gear. Ironic, she mused, considering how that urge had never been triggered by Killian himself.

“Emma, I’m sorry, but my job right now is-”

“Is to protect me, I _get it_ ! But you can protect me in a professional capacity without this overbearing shit. How many times do I have to tell you that?! Okay, so we forgot about the cameras and I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t intentionally trying to give anyone a peep show, _Jesus_! We made a mistake, but that doesn’t warrant you overreacting, like I’m your precious virginal daughter that needs to have her honor defended. I’ve never had parents, and I don’t need a fucking surrogate one now!”

With that, she hung up, silently seething as she glared at the phone in her hand. She knew she’d been harsh with David, and perhaps her fury hadn’t been completely called for, but she was pissed and embarrassed, and his well-intentioned meddling had been the final straw. With her anger finally beginning to wane in the tense silence of the kitchen, Emma looked up at Killian.

He was watching her carefully, trying to disguise a pained expression and failing miserably. She was about to ask him what was wrong when he spoke softly.

“A mistake…”

He said, once again rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away. She frowned, confused, and he swallowed, shaking his head.

“You said ‘we made a mistake’. Did you just mean forgetting about the cameras was a mistake...or something more?”

Emma stared at him, that old familiar feeling she’d hoped wouldn’t come rising in her chest and stealing her ability to form words. She opened her mouth, but found she had absolutely no idea what to say. She knew what she _wanted_ to say, but the words were escaping her, swallowed by the fear that had choked her. She saw the hurt and disappointment flash across his face and felt shame run hot in her veins. All he needed was a reassurance that she wasn’t second-guessing or regretting opening herself up to him...and she couldn’t even give him that.

He turned away then, moving toward the coffee machine with his shoulders slumped slightly, barely noticeable but it didn’t escape her. She stood there, mute, in the middle of their kitchen, a thousand emotions warring within her noisy head, and suddenly she felt claustrophobic, gripped by the need for air and open space. Solitude. A place where her thoughts wouldn’t seem to loud.

“I...I’m gonna go for a run.”

She mumbled, and practically bolted from the room. He turned and watched her disappear up the stairs, no doubt to change into her workout clothes, and then shortly after he heard the front door open and close. He heaved a sigh, the heaviness in his heart a stark contrast to how light and _happy_ he’d felt just a few hours earlier, watching Emma sleep and then starting their day off by making love in the shower.

He’d thought it was a sign of a good day, that she’d woken up and hadn’t regretted what they’d done. But it was short lived, apparently. And all it took for her to retreat, pulling those walls of hers back up around her and shutting him out, was the misguided meddling of her boss, who clearly only wanted to protect her, but inadvertently triggered her defence mechanisms instead.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

Running had always been her default coping mechanism. Appropriate, really, she supposed. The feeling of her chest and legs burning as she pushed herself harder, and the air sharp and fresh against her cheeks, somehow always managed to settle her restless heart. Usually, when she was back home in the city, she favored running trails along the Charles River or in one of the parks in the Emerald Necklace. There was just always something about running alongside a body of water that calmed her.

Being out in Lexington though, she had to settle for a looped route through their suburban neighborhood, and she then ventured out to the nearby Willard’s Woods. At least there was a stream, she supposed. She didn’t come across many people, of which she was grateful, and by the time she got further into the woodland trail, the claustrophobic feeling that had gripped her earlier had finally ebbed away.

Slowing down and stretching her legs using one of the large rocks that lined the running trail, Emma took a minute to catch her breath and savor the solitude. Glancing at her watch, she noticed that she’d been out for over and hour and sighed. Mentally plotting her route back, she rolled her shoulders but froze when she heard the distinct sound of branches snapping close by. With all her senses on high alert, she spun around, eyes scanning along the treeline and waiting with baited breath to see if any further sounds followed.

When all she could hear was the trill of birds and other sounds of nature, she mentally chastised herself for being so on edge. But then again, she reminded herself, she _was_ only out in Lexington to catch a killer in the first place, so being highly attuned to her surroundings and suspicious of anything remotely out of the ordinary at all times was somewhat of a given.

Shaking her head, she turned to head back the way she came...and there was that sound again. Branches snapping underfoot. She didn’t hang around any longer, adrenaline surging through her as her fight or flight chose the latter option. It could have been any number of animals roaming through the woods, but it could also have been something, or someone, more sinister. And having left her phone back at the house, along with her gun and anything else she could use to protect herself, she knew getting the hell out of there was her only realistic option.

Not pausing to look back and check whether or not she was being followed, Emma ran until her lungs felt like they were on fire. She didn’t pause upon leaving the woods either, pushing herself beyond her usual limits, fueled by adrenaline and her self-preservation instincts, and made it back to the house in twenty minutes. Her legs were shaking and she practically collapsed the second she barrelled through the door, relief flooding her as the adrenaline faded fast.

Making it to the sofa, she dropped down heavily onto it, uncaring of the fact that she was sweaty and had mud caked on her sneakers and splashed up her bare calves. As she sucked in much-needed oxygen and waited for her heart rate to slow, she lifted her gaze to the hallway, hearing footsteps along the landing that then descended the stairs.

“Emma?”

Killian sounded concerned, and she was immediately on high alert again. He appeared at the bottom of the stairs and the worry etched into his face, coupled with the flash of relief when he saw her sprawled out on the sofa, made her feel a little guilty. He’d been worried about her, clearly.

“Christ, Emma, you’ve been gone almost two hours! I tried calling you and then found you’d left your phone here and-...is that mud? Where the hell have you been?”

His voice was strained with barely-contained frustration, and she knew it was only out of concern for her wellbeing, but she’d gone running to escape the claustrophobic feeling that overbearing concern enveloped her with. She didn’t want to come back to more of it.

“I told you I was going for a run.”

She panted, scowling and pushing herself up onto legs that still felt a little too wobbly to hold her. She saw the tick of Killian’s jaw as he clenched it and fought the urge to roll her eyes and chastize him for taking notes from David.

“Are you actively trying to put yourself in unnecessary danger?”

He ground out, the stiffness of his shoulders giving away his anger and frustration with her.

“I can take care of myself.”

She snapped back instinctively, moving to push past him, intending to head upstairs and shower away the mud and sweat. But he grabbed her arm, gentle enough that she could pull away easily, but with enough of a grip that she knew he was serious. She didn’t pull away.

“I’m well aware you can _take care of yourself_ , and I never said you couldn’t. But you _really_ think going running in the woods or wherever you’ve been for the last few hours is a fucking _smart_ thing to do when we’re baiting a bloody _serial killer_ , Swan?”

His voice was shaking and he was glaring at her. While she did feel guilty for clearly leaving him stewing in a state of panic for the last few hours, she also felt the indignant urge to push his buttons. She wasn’t used to having someone waiting on her, or calling her out on her unhealthy coping mechanisms, and it made the stubborn side of her rear its head.

Yanking her arm out of his grip, she glared right back up at him, ignoring the thrill and the rush of heat that ran through her as she held fiery eye contact, refusing to back down.

“You can stop being so damn dramatic,” she said cooly, “I'm _fine_ , aren't I? There was no one around, I survived my oh-so dangerous run, and I'm stood right in front of you, unharmed.”

She could see Killian’s jaw working again and knew her icy indifference to his concern was pushing his buttons. The rational and reasonable side of her mind was telling her to stop, to acknowledge that he was right to be worried and to apologize for being careless with her own safety. It was urging her to admit that she'd felt like someone was watching her and that she knew he was only angry because he was concerned for her safety...because he cared about her. That would've been the smart and _adult_ thing to do.

But instead, she lifted her chin in defiance, that reasonable side heaving a sigh and shaking its head in resignation as her stubborn side won.

“I already have one overbearing idiot on my back, I don't need another. You're my partner, not my keeper, or my _boyfriend_ , so back the fuck off.”

Killian’s nostrils flared as she spoke, her words delivering the swift metaphorical punch in the gut, as intended. He fought to conceal the hurt that burned in his chest and the frustration that was making his whole body buzz when he replied, his voice strained with the effort.

“Fine! You do whatever the fuck you want, Emma! I'm so _sorry_ for worrying about you. But is it so damn hard to accept that maybe I want you to be safe because I _care about you_?”

He didn't miss the way she hesitated slightly, her cool mask of insouciance slipping momentarily before she fixed it firmly back into place, eyes hard and jaw set.

“I can take care of myself…”

She muttered, almost to herself, as though reminding herself of that fact and reaffirming that she didn't want or need his concern.

“I know,” he replied, his tone less sharp now, “But perhaps I wish to take a little bit of that burden and care for you too…”

He knew this was dangerous territory. He hadn't really expected those words to fall from his own mouth and he braced himself to watch her walls go up right in front of him. She was staring at him with wide eyes, uncertainty and a note of fear glimmering back at him while she opened her mouth to respond, but came up empty, apparently unable to find words for whatever it was she wanted to say.

He was ready for her to mutter any excuse she could think of and then spend the rest of the day avoiding him in their own (temporary) home…but the surprises kept coming. Because instead of shutting him down, she shoved him roughly against the hallway wall where he'd pinned her just a few days earlier, and kissed him just as fiercely and passionately as he'd kissed her then.

He barely had time to respond to the kiss, instinctively lifting his hand to cup the back of her head and draw her closer once the initial shock faded. And then she was pulling away, the walls coming up just as he'd anticipated.

With kiss-bruised lips, she stepped back, tongue swiping over her lower lip where she could still taste him. She turned to the stairs and he stared after her, touching his lips that were still tingling from her rough and unexpected kiss, as he exhaled the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

Before she bolted up the stairs, she paused and glanced over her shoulder at him, not making eye contact and delivering her command in a flat voice.

“Don't follow me.”

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

A cold shower later, Emma didn’t really feel all that much better. Her head felt full, and it seemed like days had passed since their pleasant wake-up call that morning. But their playful banter and shared shower had lulled them into a false sense of security, and the day had gone drastically downhill from the minute she’d read those texts from Will.

Now, she was overthinking _everything_. What she’d started with Killian, the case, and the strange, unsettling feeling of being watched and followed during her morning letting-of-steam run. She was deep in thought as she threw on her most comfortable jeans, a new sports bra and a plain white-vest top, towel-drying her hair and opening the blinds and curtains in the bedroom. It was a beautiful day, despite the dark cloud that seemed to loom over her mood.

Her phone, lying on the bed where Killian must have left it as he’d paced the house in a state of panic earlier when he couldn’t reach her, suddenly began to ring, startling her. She scowled, chastising herself for being so damn jumpy. Shaking her head, she snatched the phone up, and her glare only deepened as she saw David’s caller ID.

Giving as exasperated sigh, she answered.

“You’re either calling to apologize, or if Killian called you because he couldn’t get hold of me, you’re calling to yell at me. And honestly, David, I’m not interested in either of those options. I went for a run, big fucking deal. I’m a big girl and I can handle myself. As I’ve told you _a thousand times_. And if he didn’t call you, then...ignore that. I also don’t want to hear an apology for you being an overbearing idiot this morning-”

“Emma. Shut up for _one_ minute.”

David cut her off, and she snorted.

“Well, that’s one hell of a way to apologize.”

She clenched her jaw, reining in the flash of indignation that made her curl her fingers and dig her nails into her palm. Flexing her hand and willing away the attitude that simmered so close to the surface, she reached up to mindlessly shift the blinds and peer outside. She was momentarily distracted from David informing her he wasn’t calling to apologize, when she thought she saw movement in the line of high, thick foliage lining the narrow footpath across the street.

Feeling her heart skip and her breath catch in her throat, she kept her eyes trained on the spot, trying to tell herself that it was probably just birds or some other form of wildlife that had made its home in the greenery.

“Wait, what did you say?”

She mumbled, catching the tail end of what David was saying but not really processing it.

“I _said_ that Robert Gold walked into the station this morning, about thirty m inutes ago, and said he wants to talk. This is huge, Emma.”

Her eyes widened and she cursed under her breath, the enormity of this development taking her attention right back to David, pushing her paranoia to that back of her mind, for now. She turned away from the window and began pacing the room, trying to make sense of what had transpired.

“Are you _serious_?! Have you questioned him yet? Is he still a suspect? Has he given himself up? Have we even got anything incriminating on him aside from the phonecall to Regina Mills?”

David chuckled humorlessly.

“Slow down. Is Killian there? Put me on loudspeaker so I don’t have to go over this twice.”

Emma darted a glance at the doorway, knowing Killian was downstairs and respecting her silent request for space with her earlier warning not to follow her upstairs.

“Uh...yeah, gimme a minute.”

She hesitantly made her way down to the living room, where Killian was sat watching some maritime documentary on the TV. He straightened up as she approached, phone pressed to her shoulder.

“It’s David. There’s been a development.”

She said, and Killian nodded succinctly, muting the TV and shifting to give her room to sit that wouldn’t have them invading one another’s personal space. She appreciated the gesture and gave him a tight, slightly awkward smile, before putting David on loudspeaker and telling him to repeat what he’d told her, and to tell them the rest.

David filled them in on everything. Gold had shown up alone, and had asked for David by name. He’d been cagey about why exactly he’d chosen to turn up out of the blue now, apparently with ‘information’ they might find helpful. He’d avoided answering questions there and then, insisting that his lawyer be present, regardless of the fact that he was there on an entirely _voluntary_ basis. A fact he made sure to emphatically repeat.

They hadn’t yet interviewed him, waiting on the arrival of his lawyer - a _precautionary_ measure, Gold had said, because he was well aware of the laundry list of _circumstantial_ evidence in relation to multiple other cases they might want to quiz him on, and he was quite insistent that he was _only_ there to discuss their current case.

David also informed them that once the lawyer arrived, Graham would be conducting the interview, and he would keep Emma and Killian on loudspeaker behind the two-way mirror so they could hear everything.

“Has he said what prompted this uncharacteristic appearance? We couldn’t get hold of him even with the best trained surveillance units in the FBI on his back. And he just shows up out-of-the-blue and walks right into the station...something doesn’t sit right with all of this.”

Killian frowned, ready to take whatever ‘information’ Gold was willing to give them with a sceptical eye. He didn’t trust the man, and he was highly suspicious of his motives in giving them _anything_. For all they knew, he could be purposefully misleading them, if one of his more valued cronies, or he himself, was involved in the murders. It wasn’t exactly an unlikely scenario, considering the caliber of people he’d made acquaintance and done business with over the years. But at the same time, he was taking somewhat of a risk simply by walking into the precinct, so there had to be something in it for him. Something worth a risk.

“I figure there must be something in it for him, and I suppose he’ll make that known once we get him talking. He’s not saying much of anything yet,” David sighed, “But this is the biggest break we seem to have had so far. We’ve got some of the guys following up on a possible lead from  the last vics’ house; a car one of the neighbors reported seeing cruising through the neighborhood a few times in the week leading up to the double murders. They wrote down the plates - thank god for the nosy neighborhood watch types, huh? But it came back as stolen. Registered owner reported it stolen a week ago, and so far we’ve not had any viable hits from cameras that picked it up since then.”

Emma ran her hand through her still-damp hair in exasperation. The case seemed to be going at a snail’s pace, and she wasn’t sure whether or not that was because she felt stuck on the outside of the investigation, waiting around in a fancy house and hoping their killer would take the bait they were offering up. Other than her paranoia, which she was convincing herself was just a product of her restlessness, they had no real reason to think they’d managed to get onto the unsub’s radar yet. And it made Emma antsy.

“So, basically we aren’t really getting anywhere fast with this case. There’s still a crazy son of a bitch out there ripping hearts out and the best we can hope for is that a shady criminal mastermind, who’s just waltzed in off the street of his own volition, will help us blow the case wide open. Brilliant. This whole thing is going _swimmingly_ well.”

Emma snapped, standing and walking into the kitchen, needing to pace or do _something_ to settle the cabin fever that was starting to set in for her. She wasn’t used to taking a backseat like this in her own investigation. And it really felt like she wasn’t contributing much by sitting around and waiting for the unsub to come to them, which frustrated her endlessly. She was used to giving chase, not waiting to be chased.

“How about I call you guys back when the lawyer arrives? Take a breather and cool down.”

David said calmly, and Emma rolled her eyes, despite knowing he couldn’t see her. Walking back over to where she’d placed the phone down on the coffee table, she snatched it up and sighed.

“Fine. Call us back as soon as the lawyer gets there. Bye.”

With that, she hung up, tossing the phone carelessly onto the comfy chair and growling in exasperation. Killian stood, tentatively taking a step closer to her and she eyed him warily.

“Hey...I know you’re on edge. We all are. But...maybe cut Dave a little slack? He might’ve overstepped a few boundaries this morning, but he had good intentions, even though it pissed you off. And he’s doing everything he can, just as I trust that my team are too, when we’ve had very little to go on. I’m not telling you how to deal with the frustration or anything,” he held his hands up and gave her a sheepish smile, “but I feel like maybe Dave’s taking the brunt of your wrath right now, and maybe he doesn’t deserve all of it…?”

Emma could tell he was choosing his words carefully, and she knew that what he was saying was fair and true. She _was_ taking out her frustrations on David, by snapping at him and giving him attitude. He was _safe_. She could snap at him like she had and he’d forgive her; he’d understand why and he wouldn’t walk away. He and Will were two of the only constants in her life, even when she pushed them away.

But Killian was right, David may have overstepped his duties by giving Killian ‘the dad talk’ that morning, but he hadn’t deserved Emma’s wrath for all of it. Her shoulders sagged in defeat and she sighed wearily, shaking her head.

“I know I’ve been a bitch,” she said quietly, all the frustration and rage she’d had pent up suddenly vanishing and leaving behind a weary, exhausted shell, “I just...I’m restless here. I feel like I could be doing so much more than just...sitting around here, _waiting_ for something to happen. That’s not really something I’m good at, if you hadn’t noticed.”

She smiled wryly, and Killian reached for her hand, gauging her reaction as he did so. She didn’t stop him, and he grazed his thumb over her knuckles. She didn’t pull away from the comforting gesture, but her gaze was guarded and he noted that. _Don’t push too far_.

“You’re not a bitch, Swan. And your restlessness is understandable. This,” he gestured around them, “is all new territory for me, too. I know patience is easier said than done when the body count just seems to keep rising, but we’re all doing the best we can.”

Emma looked down at her hand in his and nodded, knowing he was right. She broke the moment by gently extracting her hand and nodded toward the kitchen, injecting some false cheeriness into her tone but falling short of being convincing.

“I should, uh...make us some coffee or something, while we wait for that call…”

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

He could see them through the french doors that looked out over the garden. He’d have been able to track down where they lived sooner, but after they’d left the restaurant the night before, he’d lost them thanks to some douchebag cutting him off on Bedford Street. It was purely by chance that he’d seen her again that morning, crossing Bedford on what he assumed was a morning run. He’d tailed her, but she’d been oblivious.

When she’d entered the park, he’d considered making his move then. There was barely anyone around and he could probably catch her off guard. But no. He had to be patient. He’d follow her home at a safe enough distance, and scope out the area, just as he had done with the other women. And then he’d plan his next move.

He waited patiently in the car, not close enough to the park to be conspicuous, but close enough that he wouldn’t miss her on what he assumed would be her route back to the main road. Sure enough, a little while later, she shot out of the park. She was running hard, hardly bothering to look before she ran across the street, ignoring the blaring horns of angry drivers, and headed toward the residential area he’d followed her through on the way there.

This time, he didn’t lose her, but as she entered a quiet neighborhood he made sure to stay well back, aware that tailing her could very well rouse her suspicions. She was still running at a punishing pace, and he momentarily wondered if she was aware of being followed. But she didn’t look back to check.

He pulled the car over a little way down the street when he saw her run up the driveway toward a beautiful Colonial style home, disappearing inside without pausing. He scowled, seething silently over the cushy little life she lived now, just like the others, after throwing away something so precious. He pulled his hood up and got out of the car, darting into the hedgerow out of sight at the first opportunity. The west side of the street backed onto a nature reserve, he noted, with the house she’d run into being built in the corner lot, the nature reserve bordering the backyard.

He smirked as he stalked through the foliage, making his way closer to the house. It was set back from the road, a driveway leading up to the impressive family home. _Family_ home, he thought bitterly. She and all those other women had traded their chances to have families for material possessions instead. Unforgivable, in his eyes.

He glared up at the house, carefully analyzing any security measures he could see. There didn’t appear to be an obvious alarm system, but he wouldn’t take for granted that there wasn’t one. He’d broken into enough houses by now to know that newer, more upscale  houses tended to have more covert systems in place. The windows looked secure, but the double-fronted garage appeared to be electrical, which he knew he could probably override.

He stood observing the house from the relative safety of trees and bushes opposite for some time. And that’s when he saw her appear in the upstairs window. She was towel drying her hair and peered out in the direction of the trees. He froze for a moment, feeling as though she was looking right at him. Stepping backwards, he quickly maintained some distance, assuring that he couldn’t be seen, especially not from a distance. He peered through the mass of greenery and saw she now had a phone pressed to her ear, and she turned away, seemingly still blissfully unaware of his presence.

He smirked to himself again, bolstered by her ignorance, and carefully made his way out of the hedgerow. Maintaining a safe distance from the house, he followed the perimeter of the property, staying far enough into the border of the nature reserve that he knew he couldn’t be spotted. When he had a good enough view of the back of the house, and caught sight of the couple deep in conversation in what appeared to be a living room, he stopped.

He’d given up a perfect chance to grab her that morning. But now, observing his prey as she went about her life, that patience was being rewarded. There was nothing quite like the hunt, for him. Nothing quite like holding her fate in his grasp, from mere yards away, without her even knowing it. But still, the thrill of the hunt came a close second to giving women like her what he believed they truly deserved. She’d once been heartless enough to give up a child, and continue on with her life like it meant nothing to her. So he’d show her what it truly meant to be heartless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one ended up being a bit of a labor of love, thanks to a bratty muse and a lot of work stuff getting in the way (think, mixed day and night shifts in a week and extra shifts too, on a very busy hospital ward. Fun).  
> But I'm pretty pleased with this chapter, and we've officially hit the tense/angsty stuff! Wahey! You knew it was coming! ;) And there's plenty yet to come too!  
> Thank you, as always, to every single one of you who reads, reviews, messages me etc about this fic. Your feedback really does mean a lot, and I appreciate every one of you for taking the time to read my lil 'ole fic, even more so if you also review, because you've taken extra time to give me your thoughts. And I will always love you forever for that!
> 
> Oh, and all the geographic deets in this and every other chapter are real. If you wanna peep the house, just get 6 Centre St, Lexington, MA, 02421 up on Redfin, and you can also see the area on Google Maps too, if you're like me and like visuals to go with your fic reading!


	15. 15

"August Booth?  _Our_  August? What the hell is he talking about?! He can't really expect us to believe this bullshit!"

Emma was staring incredulously at the phone, unable to believe what she was hearing. David had called them back as soon as Gold's lawyer had arrived and they'd been listening to the interview via loudspeaker in the observation room.

August owned a bar down the street from the station. It was all the cops' local hangout, and as a hands-on owner who often tended the bar too, he knew most of the cops by name. He was an unassuming guy, and had always made Emma feel comfortable, despite her not really knowing all that much about him other than that he was from Maine and had wanted to be a writer, but instead ended up opening a bar.

Killian looked nonplussed, unsure of who August was, but listening intently to the interview to hear what kind of evidence Gold apparently had that he was so  _generously_  passing on to them.

There were CCTV photos of August with the first victim, dated from the night of the woman's murder. They appeared to be talking outside his bar, and the woman, Taryn Wheeler, seemed visibly upset, according to David's explanation of the photos for Emma and Killian. A minute or so later, the photos showed them walked away together. It was certainly enough to warrant checking into, but Emma refused to believe a known criminal over a seemingly nice guy like August without doing the due diligence first and ensuring the legitimacy of the information.

She sat listening, silently infuriated, as Gold calmly explained that he employed August for the odd 'moving and handling job', often short notice and always cash in hand, though he refused to elaborate further on what exactly those 'jobs' entailed. Clearly they were less than legal, but he chose his words meticulously, and it was very obvious just how accomplished he was at navigating on the fringes of the law, and exploiting legal loopholes.

Emma huffed, unsure if she was more exasperated and disappointed by the fact that this information could potentially hold some truth, or that she'd apparently misread someone so very badly.

Killian was eyeing her carefully from the comfy chair as she sat perched on the sofa, but she ignored him. His gaze kept darting back to her with every scoff and clench of her jaw, and it was only adding to her annoyance.

Gold offered a little more in the way of evidence to stack against August - proof that he'd employed him for various 'miscellaneous' tasks, including a tape recording of August disclosing, in what sounded like a formal interview, that he had a juvenile record for breaking and entering.

As well as that, Gold also informed them that he knew about the children's group home link, and that it added to his suspicions about August. Still, he continually shut down Graham's persistent attempts at finding out  _how_  he knew about the link between the murders and the group home, when it was information they'd withheld from entering the public domain. He flippantly told them he had his sources, and firmly redirected the conversation, glibly reminding Graham that he was there of his own volition, not to be questioned as a suspect or an accomplice.

When Graham acquiesced and asked him to elaborate on why that information added to his suspicions, he informed them that August had grown up in the system. So, in Gold's eyes, the man had motive, considering all the victims had given up a child. And 'didn't it make sense for a child whose own family didn't want him, who was raised in an institution rather than a home, to grow into a man who had little empathy and harbored resentment toward those who willingly gave up a family'?

Killian wanted to reach out and hold Emma as he saw the flicker or hurt and anger in her eyes when she heard Gold's judgemental assessment of August. But her expression hardened immediately and he thought better of it, his disdain for Gold only growing.

He had a history of breaking and entering too, Gold was informing them now, and a penchant for lock picking. Breaking into the group home wouldn't have been particularly difficult, and it wasn't far from August's apartment either. Gold sighed emphatically as he recounted, in his calm and detached manner, finding the stack of files on his desk in his office one morning, with a scrawled post-it on top in August's handwriting, with a request that simply said "please return these".

He had photographic evidence to back up his claim, David informed Emma and Killian as they listened silently to every word that was being said. It didn't sound good for August. And as skeptical as they'd been going into this interview, they had to all admit, the evidence was rather compelling, if not relatively circumstantial until they'd verified things.

The interview ended shortly after, and David hung up to go and thank Gold for his time and cooperation, despite having to grit his teeth to do so. The man was as shady as they came, and none of them would take his word for anything. Before he'd even left the station, Emma knew David would have people verifying records and such across as many databases as required.

Meanwhile, Emma was still staring at the phone, in a state of mild shock that someone she'd known and liked could have been fooling her with his nice guy persona for so long. She'd considered him somewhat of a friend for years now. Well, more an acquaintance really, but they always exchanged pleasantries at the bar, he knew her favorite drinks and gave her snacks on the house when he sensed she'd had a bad day...that was often as far into friendship as Emma liked to get. So yes, she'd considered him a friend.

"You alright there, love?"

Killian asked softly, snapping Emma out of her thoughts. She glanced over at him momentarily before leaning back on the sofa, pressing a thumb into her temple to try and fend off the headache beginning behind her eyes. The day had been a lot already, and the new information wasn't helping.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Just...August. Man, you think you know someone."

She shook her head, something that felt a lot like betrayal sitting heavily in her chest. Yet another person in her life who was turning out to be something other than what he'd made her believe.

Killian was still watching her, studying her, and she sighed, shaking her head.

"Y'know what pisses me off though? How Gold said August was in the system like it was some kind of disease, or that it made the idea of him being a crazy, psycho serial killer more believable. Not all of us become the bad guys. And I always read August as a nice guy."

He could understand her anger, and how painful and infuriating it had to be hearing someone suggest that her background, one she'd had no control over, could be some kind of precursor to a life of crime and violence. But he couldn't help but wonder if that was the only reason she was indignant and angry, and defending August...or if there was something more to it. The idea of the bartender, whom he only vaguely remembered, having something more than easy acquaintance with Emma made that small, jealous part of him rear its head.

"Gold doesn't know what he's talking about, Swan. And for that, he's lucky. He's also a hypocrite; suggesting that growing up an orphan predisposes you to a life of crime, and yet there he is, practically the kingpin of the criminal underworld."

He scoffed and shook his head. Emma smiled tightly, but she looked more than a little disillusioned.

"Did you know him well? Were you two...close?"

Killian asked, trying for nonchalance but falling a little short as he focused on picking at an imaginary piece of lint on his jeans. Emma eyed him, narrowing her eyes slightly.

"Are you asking that in a professional or personal capacity?"

She replied bluntly, and attentively watched his expression for an answer. Killian swallowed, at a loss for words for a moment, thrown off kilter at the straightforwardness of her question.

"Answering a question with a question…"

He mumbled, feeling the tips of his ears burning and  _knowing_  she'd noticed his much-too-obvious tell. She was perceptive to a fault, his Swan. He glanced up at her as she sighed and rolled her eyes, but there was the smallest hint of amusement in her tone when she spoke.

"Are you really getting  _jealous_  right now? Of a guy who might have murdered a bunch of people?"

Killian clenched his jaw, hating to admit that yes, he had felt an unwelcome flare of jealousy at the idea of another man being close to his fake wife. And yes, he did feel somewhat ridiculous for that, when the man in question could potentially be the very person they were trying to bait.

"Why would I be jealous? I know nothing about the man. Other than that, as you said, he could have murdered a bunch of people. I was simply asking if you knew him well because…" he paused, racking his brain for a plausible reason other than that he was  _jealous_ , "I don't know, perhaps he may have said something to you at some point that didn't seem important at the time, but could be relevant now."

Silently congratulating himself on his on-the-spot improvisation skills, Killian ran a hand through his hair and met Emma's unconvinced gaze. She raised her eyebrow and gave him the smallest hint of a smirk with a shake of her head.

"Nice save. We were friends, sort of. And I don't make friends very easily, in case you hadn't noticed. August was a rare exception, but I didn't really  _know_  him. Clearly. He's been running that bar for as long as I can remember, and he always seemed like a nice, normal guy. He'd give us free food and drinks when he sensed we'd had bad days, but he was like that with everyone. I didn't know he was in the system, he never talked about that. Everything we talked about was...surface stuff. Small talk. He was more interested in my day than talking about his own."

"I'll bet."

Killian muttered under his breath and clenched his jaw. Emma rolled her eyes again. She couldn't deny that the little display of jealousy was somewhat amusing to her, but she was pointedly ignoring the fact that it was also kind of attractive on him. She didn't usually entertain jealousy from a guy, and it could feel a little too possessive sometimes. But on him, it was more endearing than annoying. Especially because she could tell he was embarrassed by it, and was actively trying to quash the feeling.

But there were a lot of other feelings warring in her heart and her gut, alongside the amusement and attraction stirred by Killian's responses. There was disappointment and betrayal, and a tiny spark of hope that maybe Gold was just spinning tales. But if that was the case, then he was purposefully trying to mislead them, which suggested that the truth could hurt him in some way.

All they could do now though, was wait until David got back to them after they followed up on this possible lead. Part of her just wanted it all to be over, to put the killer away regardless of who it ended up being, so that he was no longer a risk to anyone, and they could all go back to their lives. But another part of her sincerely hoped it wasn't August, that she hadn't been wrong about him, and that everything Gold had told them was a lie. She knew that meant she and Killian would be staying in their assumed roles for God only knew how long...but she wasn't sure if that was really such a horrible possibility after all.

* * *

**_CS_ **

* * *

"What d'ya think then? Ya reckon he's tellin' the truth? Ya really think  _August_  could be the perp?"

Will didn't want to believe it. He, along with pretty much the rest of the department, liked August. His bar had been the unofficial hangout for the entire precinct for as long as it'd been open. But if there was one thing that his job had taught him, it was that people were always capable of far more than you expected, be that for better or worse.

He'd spent the rest of the morning checking out the alibis Gold had given them for the dates of the murders, and so far every one of them checked out. Of course, he hadn't expected anything less than watertight alibis from a man who had evaded the law for years, despite being well known for his shady business practices and even shadier associations.

David had told him that he was going with him to pay August a visit at the bar, though neither of them was relishing the task. It was never easy to accuse or even just question someone they knew personally in relation to any crime, but especially when it was a crime so heinous and violent.

"I'm not inclined to believe anything that comes out of Gold's mouth before checking all the facts. But if that photograph of August with the first victim outside his bar on the night she was murdered is real...we have to question him. And even if he can prove to us that he didn't murder her, he could well have been the last person to see her alive. So either way, we have to bring him in. Right now, he's the only viable suspect we have, aside from Gold himself."

"His alibis all seem to check out."

Will grumbled, even though he knew they'd all suspected they would.

"Yeah, I didn't doubt they would. The man has backup plans for his backup plans. He wouldn't have walked in here if he thought there was any conceivable way we could pin something on him. And I'm loathed to admit it but these murders...they're not Gold's style. He doesn't get his hands dirty. He gets his cronies to do that kind of thing for him, and makes sure it could never be traced back to him."

David leaned against Will's desk. The weight of the case and the responsibility to protect Emma and Killian as best he could were sitting heavily on his shoulders. He was grateful that he had such a good team, both his own and Killian's, around him but he still felt ultimately responsible for bringing Emma home safe.

"I was just thinkin' though, Dave. What if it is August? Wouldn't this undercover adventure be a bit pointless? He knows Emma. He wouldn't take the bait."

A thoughtful expression crossed David's face as he considered Will's observation. He wasn't sure how well August and Emma knew each other - they certainly didn't hang out outside of her visiting the bar with her co-workers, as far as he knew, but he'd seen them talking and laughing together plenty of times. He couldn't imagine she'd opened up to him; that really wasn't Emma's style, even if she considered someone a friend.

"Good point. We'll test that theory on this little visit we're going to pay him. Emma has been conspicuously absent when we've been to the bar over the last week. If he is the killer, and she isn't on his radar yet, this could be quite a nice little trap."

Will looked a little confused, but he shrugged and grabbed his jacket, trailing after his boss out of the bullpen. It felt a little strange to be partnered with anyone other than Emma, and he knew that both himself and David were equally eager to close this case and get her home. It had felt like somewhat of a treadmill thus far; little solid evidence, very few leads and a mounting body count. The chief was on David's back about it, but Will was sure he was putting more pressure on himself than the chief ever could.

They opted to walk to the bar, located just at the end of the block, and when they arrived, August wasn't behind the bar. Instead, it was one of the other regular bartenders, a young woman everyone affectionately called Tink, serving the scant lunchtime patrons who were present. David couldn't even recall what her real name was, though she didn't seem to mind the longstanding nickname. Tink gave them a wave and a smile as they approached the bar, walking over once she'd finished serving the other customer.

"Hello there, fellas. Not used to seeing you in here during work hours. What can I get you?"

"Hey, Tink. Just wondering if the boss man's around?"

David replied, his tone light and casual. No use alerting her to the fact that her boss could potentially be moonlighting as a serial killer.

"Oh, no, he's been out all morning," she frowned, "Sorting out an issue with one of our suppliers or something. He should be back anytime-...oh, speak of the devil!"

As if on cue, and before Tink could even finish her sentence, August walked through the doors, shrugging off his jacket and doing a double take as he caught sight of David and Will.

Will glanced at David, who slipped into one of the barstools and kept his expression neutral. August greeted them genially as he rounded the counter.

"Afternoon, gentlemen! What can I get for you?"

David. drummed his hands on the bar and Will followed his lead, taking the seat beside him and waiting to see what tactic David would use.

"I'll just have a root beer, mate. Thanks."

"Aye, same 'ere. Still on the clock and tha'."

Will offered, and David gave him a cursory nod when August turned to grab two chilled cans.

"So, a lunchtime call? Unusual for you two. And I haven't seen Emma in here with you guys lately. Is she alright?"

August asked casually, his back still to them as he dispensed the contents of the cans into glasses. Will gave David a pointed glance, and received a grin in return. Whatever plan he'd formulated was apparently going well so far.

"Oh, she's fine. She had a mountain of vacation time, workaholic that she is, so I made her take some of it. She's taken a few weeks off; I assume she's spending some quality time at home with her husband and itching to get back to the office. That woman doesn't know how to relax for longer than five minutes."

He chuckled with a shake of his head. August had returned with their drinks as David was talking, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Husband? She's married? Huh...I never knew that. She doesn't wear a ring and she never mentioned a husband…"

"She's not really a talker. You know that. And most of us don't wear our wedding rings on the job. I only found out she was even getting married because she needed a few days off for the two of them to elope a couple years back. She has no family; we're the closest thing she has to it, and I didn't even know she'd had a baby til last week."

If possible, August's eyebrows raised even higher, and his eyes looked about ready to pop out of his skull. If he was acting, he was most certainly doing an Emmy-worthy job of it.

"A baby?! I'm pretty sure I would've remembered her being pregnant; she's got a perfect body and I don't think she could hide a pregnancy," he laughed with a shake of his head, clearly thinking David was toying with him, "Nice try though. Is it April 1st already?"

David stared at him blankly, and Will threw back his drink to avoid throwing it at August. He knew David was probably tempted to do the same, but he held his nerve, his voice calm and low when he spoke again.

"Firstly, don't talk about Emma's body to either of us. She gets that bullshit enough and I have a feeling you wouldn't say that to her face. So don't say it to us. Secondly, I'm not joking. She had a baby when she was just a kid herself and she gave it up. Perhaps don't  _laugh_  about that if she ever talks to you about it."

David tipped back his drink then too, slamming it down, the remainder of the drink in the glass sloshing over onto the counter. August looked equal parts horrified and ashamed, and he muttered apologies as David shook his head and stood up. Will was confused, still under the impression that they were going to question August about his whereabouts on the nights each of the victims had been killed. But instead, David was heading for the door, glancing over his shoulder and eyeballing Will, silently telling him to follow.

He gulped down the remainder of his root beer and hightailed it after his boss without another word. When they were outside and at a safe distance from the bar, Will turned to David, annoyance in his tone.

"What the hell 'appened to questionin' 'im? He's been suspiciously 'out' all mornin' an' you're not pullin' 'im on it? You gonna lemme in on whatever scheme you've cooked up?"

"I told you, it's a trap. He now knows the details he needs to know, if he truly didn't already, that make Emma a perfect fit for the victimology. Now, we put a detail on him and see what he does with that information. If he makes a move that looks even remotely like he's targeting her, we arrest him. I'm not messing around when it comes to her safety out there. And if he doesn't do anything that strikes us as suspicious...then we'll pay him another visit and ask him about his interaction with the first victim."

Will was impressed. David had mastered the art of the lure, after so many years on the job, but now more than ever, they were relying on it to work. They'd sat and waited for the killer to target Emma and Killian, but instead they'd ended up with a higher body count and no answers, with the chief riding their asses and pressuring them to close the case as media interest mounted.

* * *

**_CS_ **

* * *

Emma wasn't the most patient of people, so sitting around waiting for any developments was a surefire way to drive her crazy. Killian suggested they utilized their time doing something productive, partly to dissipate and distract from the awkward tension that had settled between them that day, and Emma eagerly agreed.

So, they'd holed themselves up in the study once again, rearranging their makeshift evidence wall and inputting the possible new leads they'd received that morning. Their conversation remained focused on the case, and Killian called Belle to run some searches for them too, as they tried to figure out possible connections between August, Gold and each of the victims, as well as anything linking August to the group home (other than geographically).

While she was still on the line, Belle also informed them that the CSI lab had just sent through some new findings, showing that in the victims' homes, one of the french doors at the rear of each of the houses had slight scuffing inside the locks, suggesting that they'd been picked at some point, and could potentially have been how the killer had gained entry.

Emma added that to the evidence board, and drew a connecting line to 'lock picking skills', which sat in the rapidly-growing list under August's name. She sat on the edge of the desk, stony-faced, while her eyes darted over everything they now had on their homemade evidence board, taking it all in.

Once Killian had hung up to let Belle go to conduct the list of searches he'd given her, he tentatively moved to perch beside Emma.

"It isn't looking so good for him right now…"

He said gently, and Emma scowled, tensing up a little, but he quickly covered her hand with his between them on the desk, his eyes remaining on the board for a moment before moving to meet her wary gaze.

"That's no reflection on your ability to read people, Swan. So, please, don't think it is. We can all be fooled by people we care about."

He shifted his eyed back to the board as she considered him in silence, the weight of his words sitting heavily in the air and reminding her that they really were kindred spirits. He still had his hand over hers, and she was making no move to brush him off.

"Who was she?"

Emma asked softly, and he frowned, turning a confused gaze back to her once more.

"What?"

"The woman who broke your heart. You've mentioned before that you had your heart broken too...so who was she?"

She saw Killian's jaw work as he looked down at his hand on hers, the war raging in his head so painfully evident on his face. Finally, he swallowed thickly and found his voice.

"Her name was...Milah," he took a shaky breath, and Emma suspected it might be the first time in years he was allowing himself to say her name out loud, "We...we were in the Navy together. She was my superior; I was a Lieutenant, she was my Captain. There were rules about that sort of thing, but we ignored them. She was the only thing I cared about more than the Navy, and it made me reckless. I was in my early twenties, so sure that our love could survive anything, and she was older and more wary of consequences. She was fiery and stubborn and she drove me crazy. I loved her...more than anything in the world."

Emma's heart constricted as she watched the pain dancing across his features, reliving memories he'd buried long ago for the sake of  _moving on_  and  _healing_. But he hadn't healed; in some ways, he was just as broken as she was, and she saw that now more clearly than ever.

"What happened? I...uh, I mean, you don't have to go into it, if you don't want to. Just tell me to mind my own business-"

"No. I want to...I'd like to tell you. I haven't talked about her for many years. I've avoided it for long enough, and you told me your story. I'm sure that wasn't easy for you."

She remained quiet, turning her hand under his and gently lacing their fingers together. A silent gesture of support. His gaze flittered over her face, his pained expression softening a fraction with her gesture. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed her hand and continued.

"My brother, Liam, was a Commander in our platoon. He didn't approve of what we were doing, but I ignored all of his warnings and advice. And then Milah ended it. She said she'd been keeping something from me the whole time we were together, and that she couldn't keep lying. She was married, apparently. I was just her bit on the side. I went off the rails a little bit, but I was fortunate enough that my brother had a fair bit of leverage within the Navy, and some well-connected contacts here in the US. So, instead of being dishonorably discharged at the behest of a woman who got what she wanted and then discarded me, breaking my heart in the process...I moved here. Well, initially to Washington D.C. to work in the International Operations Division. But it was there I found, completely by accident when acting as a consultant for a case, that I was actually rather good at behavioral analysis."

He smiled ruefully, rubbing his thumb in circles against her hand and staring into space, deep in thought. Emma knew what the burning sense of betrayal felt like; she'd experienced it too many times in her life. And she also knew that wounds that ran so deep rarely healed fully.

"I'm sorry she did that to you…"

Emma said softly, not really knowing what else to say or how to properly articulate that she knew how it felt, and that she hated knowing he'd had his heart broken too. Killian sighed, shaking his head.

"I was too. And when I heard a few months after I moved here that she'd died...I didn't want to care. But I did. I still loved her, despite the fact that I blamed her for  _derailing_  my life when she broke my heart. Knowing she'd died broke me all over again, and I hated her for that, for quite a few years. It took me a long while, and quite a few therapy sessions, to realize that I blamed myself for her death, to an extent. It was an accident; no one's 'fault'. And I got a letter from her lawyer, after her funeral that I didn't attend…"

Killian ran a hand through his hair with a shaky sigh, struggling as he recounted memories long-repressed, before continuing.

"The letter was from her, and she'd asked her lawyer to have it sent to me if anything happened to her. I always thought that a little odd, but she was the kind of woman who liked to have all her affairs in order," he grimaced, "I suppose that's a bad choice of words, but you know what I mean."

Emma nodded, wishing she was better with words and knew how to comfort him. Instead, she just squeezed his hand again gently, and he squeezed back, offering a small smile of gratitude.

"What did the letter say?"

She asked softly, not wanting to pry if he didn't wish to give her all the details of his past. But the detective in her was more than a little intrigued. And she'd thought  _her_  past was complicated.

"That she was sorry for all she'd put me through, but that she hadn't told me the whole story. Yes, she was married, but she'd been estranged from her husband for many years. And she'd only done what she'd done to keep me 'safe'. That never really made sense to me, and she didn't elaborate. I assume she meant from the consequences of our relationship being found out. She went on to say that she'd heard a promotion was coming up, and that she knew I wouldn't have taken it, because it would've meant leaving our platoon. Leaving her. And she hadn't wanted to be the reason I turned down a promotion, when the Navy was so important to me. Ironic, really, considering she was the reason I ended up leaving the Navy behind altogether."

He scoffed lightly, the words bitter on his tongue. He still had her letter, stashed away in a box with the other few scant items he had to remind him of their time together. He'd never been able to bring himself to get rid of them, no matter how bitter and resentful he was after their breakup.

"It's hard to trust people again when you've been betrayed like that," Emma said quietly, "I know after Neal...I never really opened myself up to anyone, because part of me just assumed they'd always leave in the end, so what was the point?"

Killian gave her a sad smile of understanding, and there was an easy, companionable silence between them for a few moments, no words needed to convey the quiet comfort they were giving one another. Eventually, Killian spoke again.

"I honestly didn't think I'd survive that year of my life. I had to leave behind the only career I'd ever wanted, the woman I loved, and my brother. I thought I'd hit rock bottom, and I'll admit, I turned to the rum far more often than I should have. Especially when Milah died, and then just a few months after that, my brother died too. He was deployed and he got sick. They didn't know what it was, and he'd...he passed within days. I lost the only two people I'd ever cared about within months of each other. It was...a bad year, to say the least."

Emma stared at him, her heart aching for the man who had come to mean far more to her than she was really ready to think about. Pushing herself up off the desk and letting go of his hand, she moved to stand in front of him, finding his gaze and gently cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing tenderly over his scuff.

"They were lucky to have had you in their lives. And I'm sure they knew that. I know it doesn't make losing them any easier…" she let her hands move to rest on his chest, her gaze dropping too, "but I bet they'd be proud of you, if they could see you now. You help so many people, and you have a good heart, Killian. Even with everything you've been through, you haven't let it turn you cold. Most people aren't that strong."

She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm, and then his arms were moving to pull her closer as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. She leaned into his embrace, one arm around his shoulders and the other instinctively moving to cradle his head. They held each other like that for long moments, until he pulled back and gave her a weak smile.

"Thank you, love. It seems we're kindred spirits, you and I."

"What do you mean?"

He let go of her with one arm, bringing his hand up to gently thumb at the dimple in her chin, a soft and intimate gesture that had her pulse fluttering.

"All that we've been through hasn't quite managed to break us, or change our hearts. You're stronger than you know, love. And despite the circumstances," he gestured to their evidence board, "I'm very glad to have had the opportunity to get to know you. I certainly never expected anything like this when we went home from that bar together."

Killian chuckled and Emma could feel the blush rising on her cheeks, so she rolled her eyes and swatted his chest. The heavy weight of the past that had hung over them like a cloud as he'd told her of his heartache now seemed to have lifted slighty, but neither of them made any kind of move to break their embrace. It startled her a little if she thought too much about how easy it was just to be in his arms, to let down her walls enough for him to see this softer side of her.

"I haven't...felt this comfortable with anyone since Milah," Killian quietly admitted, "I mean, I haven't exactly been a monk all these years, but this...this intimacy, I haven't found this with anyone else. And I'm not asking you for anything, love. I just...wanted you to know that you've helped me heal a part of me that I never thought could be healed. I'm grateful for that."

Emma swallowed the lump of emotion that had lodged itself in her throat, and words escaped her. She stared up at him with wide eyes, hoping he could see all the things she had no idea how to say. He'd helped her heal too; he'd shown her that maybe her heart wasn't just a useless, empty shell now, and that there were still some people in the world worth putting her trust in.

But she had no idea how to verbalize her gratitude, so she simply translated words into actions, because she knew he'd understand. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she brought her lips to his in a soft, slow kiss that seemed to slow down time. He responded immediately, the arm that was around her pulling her even closer, and his other hand sliding into her hair. There was just a gentle, simmering heat beneath the kiss, and neither made any attempt to deepen it.

A few moments later though, the shrill ringing of Emma's phone had them breaking apart. He rested his head against hers, reluctant to let her go, and she sighed, eyes still closed as she willed herself to pull away.

"That could be important."

She whispered. He nodded, despite tightening his hold on her, and she finally summoned the willpower to turn out of his embrace. They both felt the loss keenly, but she shoved that feeling down as she reached for her phone. When she saw the caller ID, she frowned, and looked up at Killian in confusion.

"It's August…"

She said, suspicious as to why their main suspect was suddenly calling her out of the blue. He gestured for her to answer, and grabbed a pen and paper from the desk as she did so.

"Hello?"

She answered, warily. He'd never called her before, and she wasn't even sure she recalled exactly when she'd gotten his number.

"Emma, hey. It's August. From the bar?"

"Uh, hi...this is unexpected. Is everything alright?"

She made eye contact with Killian and he watched her intently.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just hadn't seen you in awhile and then Dave and Will came into the bar and they said you had vacation time. With your husband."

Emma bit her lip, conscious of keeping her tone casual and making her responses as natural as possible.

"Yeah. I just have a couple weeks off…how did you get my number?"

"You gave it to me last year. The Halloween party at the bar, remember?"

With this jolt to her memory came a slight flash of relief. Yes, she had given him her number of her own accord, when she'd lost her phone at the bar during the massive cleanup operation following the Halloween party, which she'd stayed to lend a hand with. She'd asked August to call her phone to locate it in the mess of orange and black streamers. So he hadn't somehow managed to acquire her number by more nefarious means, which was somewhat comforting.

"Oh, right, yeah, I remember. So, what is it you're calling for?"

She moved the conversation on and August chuckled.

"Sorry to interrupt your vacation time. I was just wanting to say...well, congratulations, I guess. This phone call seemed like a much nicer idea in my head, because now it just feels a bit weird and awkward to have called you."

Emma frowned, her confusion only deepening.

"Congratulations for what?"

"Uhm, well, getting married. I didn't even know til Dave mentioned it today. I thought he was joking. Yeah...this is definitely awkward!"

He laughed, his discomfort palpable. Killian was looking at her expectantly, but she just shrugged.

"Well, I've been married for a few years now...but thanks."

Emma said slowly, injecting a slight note of amusement into her tone and hoping she didn't sound too suspicious. August chuckled again.

"I kinda felt like a shitty friend for not knowing you were married. I wouldn't have sent drinks over to you from that guy the other week if I'd known…"

A stab of panic rendered Emma speechless for a few seconds, as she vividly recalled August seeing her leave the bar with Killian. But being quick to improvise in high-stakes situations had always been something Emma had excelled at, and she held her nerve as she found her voice.

"Ha...well, funny story. The guy I left the bar with that night...that was my husband. We sometimes like to...I don't know, keep things... _interesting_ , if you know what I mean."

She laughed a little nervously, as Killian watched her with amazement, and tried to ignore the heat she could feel no doubt coloring her cheeks. August didn't answer immediately, but cleared his throat and chuckled once more.

"Not gonna lie, I'm kinda relieved. You never seemed like the type of person who'd cheat on her husband."

"I'm not. And my husband is right here if you wanna make sure I'm not lying."

She replied flatly, indignation flaring in her chest. Killian wasn't even her  _real_  husband and yet she couldn't stand the idea of anyone thinking she'd cheat on him. August stuttered and stammered as he tried to respond.

"Oh, no, Emma, that isn't...I-I didn't...that wasn't what I-...shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it sound like I was accusing you of that. I wasn't. I swear, I was just...I shouldn't have called, I'm sorry. It seemed like a nice idea, like I said. I just wanted to say congratulations, for whenever you got married. I never knew. That's all. I'm gonna...go now. Sorry for bothering you on your vacation time. I'll see you soon."

With that, he quickly hung up, and Emma couldn't help but feel the slightest pang of guilt. Reminding herself that he could well be their killer had her backtracking on that though. And even if he wasn't, he was still involved with Gold's criminal underworld dealings in some way. Sighing and shaking her head, she put down her phone and filled Killian in on the parts of the conversation he'd missed.

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

"What the hell do you mean, 'August called you'?! Emma-"

"Are you gonna calm down and let me speak?"

David knew Emma was likely rolling her eyes on the other end of the line, but he was unnerved by how unruffled she was by the fact that their prime suspect was casually calling her up. He hasn't even known August had Emma's number, otherwise he would have suggested bugging her phone on the off-chance he'd call her.

But he did as she asked, and remained quiet as she filled him in on her conversation with August. When she'd recounted everything, David was quietly seething, and yet rather impressed by Emma's quick thinking when put on the spot about Killian.

"I think all of that is enough of a move in your direction for us to warrant bringing him in."

He said, itching to go back to the bar and drag the man in for questioning. Emma made a sound of agreement and he heard Killian in the background contributing his agreement too.

"Just...keep us in the loop. And I know you're as keen to close this case as we are, but we still don't have all that much to go on, not enough for a case against him anyway, unless he cracks and confesses or something. And I don't see that happening. So as revved up as you are...due process is still a thing, David. Don't haul him in and do anything that could compromise the case or land us with a mistrial down the road."

David shook his head, frowning as he watched Will scurrying over to his desk with a handful of papers, seemingly on a mission.

"I'm not a rookie, Emma. I've been doing this awhile, and I'm not going to compromise anything. We're going to ask him to come down to  _help_  with the investigation; he saw the first victim the night she was murdered, so we have plenty reason to be talking to him. And then we'll ask him how he knows Robert Gold. That should ruffle his feathers, and perhaps he'll slip up and either give himself away, or at least give us something incriminating on Gold in an effort to save his own ass."

"Can you email us the transcript from that interview? We've kinda got our own little evidence board going, to keep track of everything."

David chuckled, shaking his head again at his subordinate's inability to let go of the reins on her case, even out in the field without the facilities she was used to.

"Of course you do, I'd expect nothing less," he teased, before turning serious, "But yes, I'll make sure you have everything. Just...be safe, Emma. We've potentially got our guy in our sights now, but you're not out of the woods yet. We know he's organized and methodical, and we're well aware of what he's capable of, but at this point he doesn't know we have anything on him. So we're going to tread carefully and do this by the book. And hopefully we'll get you home soon."

Emma was quiet for a moment, and David glanced at the phone to check she was still on the line. Finally, she spoke.

"Go bring that son of a bitch in and get some answers. The people he killed deserve justice. And if he didn't kill them...then maybe he knows who did, or can help us figure it out. Either way, just get answers."

David nodded, as though she could see him down the line. He promised he'd do his best, and they said their goodbyes before hanging up. Grabbing his jacket, David made his way out to the bullpen and over to Will's desk.

"By the look on your face, you've stumbled onto something. And I want to know everything later. But right now, I'm going down to the bar and I'm bringing August in. He called Emma, and that's enough for me to want him in here, instead of out there. You coming?"

Will's eyes widened and he nodded, locking his computer and tugging his jacket from the back of his chair. He quickly chased after David, eager to be bringing August in, but also to fill David in on what he'd managed to find out in the last hour. It finally felt like they were getting somewhere, as various pieces of a puzzle bigger than any of them had anticipated began to fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...August! Did any of you see that little shocker coming?! And we've finally got some of Killian's backstory, which I'd only hinted at previously. That will definitely come into play in future chapters too...I expanded upon it for very good reason (aside from just loving to write emotional, walls-down moments between Emma and Killian lol!). And there are plenty more twists and turns to come in future chapters too, in case you thought the August reveal was a big one lol.
> 
> Thanks, as usual, to everyone who's stuck with me and continues to read and support this fic. And of course to Irene for yet again being the most inva;uable soundboard and feeding my muse good things! All feedback is thoroughly appreciated too. And it's a joy to see that some of the loyal reviewers of this fic are being recognized in the OUAT Fandom Awards over on Tumblr. You guys so deserve those nominations, for all the kindness and support you show to everyone who creates things in this fandom!
> 
> On another note, the next chapter is going to be quite a milestone for me as a fic writer...it'll make this the first fic I've ever written that has hit the 100K wordcount! I actually only noticed that yesterday, too! Yay for 100K!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, the update is here. I hope it makes up for the length of time you guys have waited for it.  
> Onwards!

David had expected some kind of resistance, or at least a level of wariness about accompanying them to the station. But instead, August seemed willing to help. They'd asked him to voluntarily come down for an interview on the basis of him being the last person to see their first victim alive, keeping the fact that he was currently their prime suspect in her murder under wraps. Will was ready to pull out his cuffs and do things 'the hard way', but August hadn't even needed to be asked twice.

David and Will had exchanged suspicious glances as they'd walked with him to the station, wary that his willingness to help with simply a cover. It wouldn't be the first time they'd seen that tactic used by guilty parties, who were so cocky and sure of their manipulation and acting skills that they assumed they'd be able to fool the detectives.

Once they had August in an interrogation room, supplying him with a cup of coffee as a gesture meant to put him at ease, David collected the files of evidence from his office that they wanted to discuss with him. He'd gone through the interview format with Will on their way to speak to August, so he knew exactly what tactics they were going to use. They knew the man, after all, so the rapor was already established, and they'd use a casual approach to avoid alerting him that they suspected he could potentially be the killer. David would conduct the interview alone, to avoid making the man feel too much like he was being interrogated, while Will took the opportunity to do some digging into August's background, with Belle's help, while he was there.

Returning to the interview room where their potential serial killer was waiting for him, David placed the files down on the table and sat down opposite the man. He opened the file casually and pulled out the picture of the first victim, sliding it across the table as August looked at it calmly.

"As you're probably aware from the media, we're investigating a string of murders. This young woman was one of the victims."

"Taryn, right?"

August said quietly, staring at the photo, and David's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't expected an admission that he knew the woman in some capacity. August raised his eyes to David's and sighed, pushing the photo of a happy, smiling Taryn Wheeler back across the table.

"I saw her picture on the news. She came into my bar a couple times. The last time...before she, y'know," he grimaced, "She'd had some big fight with her mom, and her husband was out of town. I noticed she looked miserable so I chatted with her, and then I gave her a ride home. I don't know anything else, and I didn't even know her that well. I was just...being nice."

He sighed and shook his head, gaze flickering back to the picture across the table. David kept his expression passive, carefully choosing his words so that they wouldn't sound accusatory.

"What time did you drop her off? Did she mention what the fight with her mom was about?"

"Uh...about midnight. Maybe a little before. She was the last one left at the bar - it was a Tuesday night so it wasn't packed out. She said she was gonna hail a cab, but she looked a little worse for wear, so I figured it'd be safer to give her a ride home," he sighed again, "And she didn't go into detail about what she'd fought with her mom about. Just said she didn't want to have a kid and her mom was pressuring her."

David nodded thoughtfully, August's story checking out time-wise as far as the CCTV evidence was concerned. He pulled the other victims' photos from the other files then, laying them out side-by-side and watching the other man carefully. There was no flash of recognition in his face that David could tell, but he pushed on regardless.

"And have you seen any of these other women before? Have any of them been customers at your bar?"

August frowned, studying each photo in turn before shaking his head.

"I don't recognize any of them, other than having seen them on the news. They've never been to my bar, as far as I'm aware. Why? You think the killer meets them at my bar?"

He looked perplexed, and David narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to detect whether August was genuinely oblivious or if he was simply just a very good actor. He quickly decided to continue with the casual tone of the interview, in an effort to negate the likelihood of August suddenly shutting down and lawyering up if he showed his cards and made it too obvious that they'd brought him in for more than just a helpful, voluntarily interview.

"We're not entirely sure, but we're...looking at it from all angles. Have you heard of a man named Robert Gold?"

August stiffened, leaning back in his chair and trying to play down his instinctive reaction to the name he very clearly recognized. The color had drained from his face and he glanced toward the mirror, as though the man could be summoned Bloody Mary-style just by uttering his name.

"Uh...I'm not sure."

August replied, suddenly guarded, his knee bouncing under the table.  _Not_  a good actor then, David mused.

"Best just to tell me the truth now, mate."

August visibly gulped and eyed David cautiously across the table. He remained silent for a few moments, weighing up his options. The interview was voluntary, after all, but that didn't rule out the possibility of him being dragged in on a  _less than voluntary_  basis later on. With his shoulders dropping in defeat he shook his head.

"Look, he's not a guy you want to cross, Dave. I certainly don't wanna be on his hit list..uh, I don't mean...not a  _literal_  hit list...well, I don't know," he was flustered, and took a steadying breath, "I know of him, though I've never actually met him in person."

"Go on."

David said slowly, noting the way the other man was looking increasingly uncomfortable, gaze darting to the door repeatedly. His shoulders slumped slightly after a prolonged moment of uncertainty playing on his features and he swiped his palm across his forehead, where a faint sheen of sweat had started to form.

"I...did some jobs for him," August grimaced, "But I really don't think that's got anything to do with your case."

"What kind of jobs?"

David pressed. August folded his arms, jaw twitching as his expression hardened.

"If you want more than that, then I want a lawyer. But for the record, whatever jobs I did for him had nothing to do with any of the women in those pictures. Is that all? Can I leave now?"

After assessing him silently across the table for a few moments, David gave a succinct nod and gathered the photos, waiting until August had bolted for the door and pulled it open before calling out to him.

"Stick around, won't you, mate? We may have some more questions. I don't think your errand boy jobs for Gold had anything to do with the victims, but we may ask you to come down here again. You were the last person to see Taryn Wheeler alive, after all. I'm sure you can understand that it's just protocol for us to ask as many questions as we can. You never know what tiny, seemingly-insignificant piece of information could end up helping us crack the case and get justice for these women."

August wavered, the defensive set of his shoulders easing slightly as he finally nodded. David watched him leave and then followed him out after gathering the file contents. Will was waiting for him, a grin on his face.

"Looks like your assignment was a little more fruitful than mine. He basically just confirmed what we already know, and then pulled the shutters down and said he wanted a lawyer if we wanted more dirt on Gold."

David sighed. Will's grin didn't waver, however, and he canted his head toward his computer.

"Yep, I found some pretty juicy shit," Will replied, leading his superior over to his desk, "I'd even go so far as sayin' it could give him  _motive_."

David's eyebrows shot up.

"For the murders?"

He asked, surprised to have such a development falling into their laps, and Will nodded, unlocking his computer and gesturing toward the screen that showed August's picture, accompanied by all the information Will and Belle had garnered about him.

"He was adopted. Spent most of his childhood in the system, and...wait fer it," Will scrolled down, "He spent some time in one of the group homes run by the Evil Queen, Ms. Regina Mills. Well, not run by  _her_ , but she inherited the family biz of tradin' in kids from her mam."

David frowned at the screen, eyes darting over the abundance of information Will and Belle had collected.

"And he has a record..."

"Yeah, but only, like, petty theft an' shit when he was a kid. There's a juvie record, but that's it. Nowt since he got adopted. Don't mean he weren't up to no good though. He was doin' Gold's dirty work. Coulda been doin' anythin' under the radar that he never got caught for. Like, y'know, murderin' women and rippin' their hearts out. What do the quacks call it? Makin' em 'surrogates' or summat? Just 'cause he got adopted don't mean he ain't still pissed at his birth mam for givin' him up. Maybe he found out she was some big hot shot and that 'triggered' his inner serial killer," Will shrugged, "It's a possible motive, ain't it?"

David processed the barrage of information silently for a moment, lips pursed and a furrow in his brow, until finally he sighed and rubbed his temples, nodding.

"Yes, I suppose it is. Or at the very least it's given us another reason to pull him in for more questioning...this time on a more  _official_  visit. He'll no doubt lawyer up, but we don't have to necessarily hide the fact that we're questioning him as a suspect, and not just a potential witness, this time. Before we do that, though, we call Emma and Killian and fill them in on everything."

 

* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

 

When her phone rang, Emma was mid-workout in the basement gym. She and Killian had decided to train together while they waited for any updates on August's interview. A good workout always served to settle her restless tendencies, and usually she'd go for a run, but after her discomfiting experience last time, she opted to stick to the home gym.

Killian had asked if she minded him joining her, keen to work off some energy with the workout regime he employed weekly when he was back in Virginia, though he quickly assured her that he wouldn't invade her space. Emma had agreed easily, and the two had lost themselves in their individual workouts. Even the occasional and accidental meeting of gazes wasn't awkward, despite the undeniable electricity they could feel simmering below the surface. There was something about working up a sweat together, in a completely non-sexual situation, that had their pulses quickening with every shared glance.

But they each kept to themselves, the Spotify workout playlist Emma had put on providing an easy soundtrack for both of them. When the shrill sound of her phone ringing interrupted the music, Killian quickly put down the free weights he was working with and hurried over to Emma. She chewed on her bottom lip, inexplicably nervous about what David and Will might have found out from the interview with August.

Part of her didn't want to believe that someone she'd actually considered a friend could be capable of doing the terrible things the killer had done. But another part of her whispered that she knew better than to believe she could ever truly  _know_  someone or what they were capable of. Neal had been a prime example. She'd been young and easily manipulated, convinced he'd loved her and blind to the reality that he was a liar and a coward, and would always put his own interests first, even when that meant destroying her heart and her life.

Shaking her head and banishing unwelcome thoughts, Emma answered the phone, foregoing a greeting and diving straight in with her own interrogation.

"So, how'd it go? Is it him? What did he say?"

She was still out of breath from the punishing pace she'd set on the treadmill, and there was a pause before David answered.

"Uh...is this a bad time?"

Emma frowned in confusion, staring at her phone and sharing a bewildered look with Killian.

"A bad time? No? Why? We've been waiting for you to call with an update."

She could hear Will chuckling in the background as she waited for David's clarification. He cleared his throat and mumbled something to Will that Emma couldn't quite catch, before Will's voice suddenly came on the line.

"A'ight, Swan. Dave's all flustered 'ere 'cause he thinks we just interrupted you two fuckin'."

Emma felt herself flush from head to toe, embarrassment surging under her skin and making her splutter indignantly. She didn't dare to look at Killian, but she could feel his palpable discomfort too and was somewhat grateful it was a mutual feeling.

"What the  _fuck_?! Seriously? If you must know, we were working out. And I mean that  _literally_ , not as a euphemism. We're in the home gym, because we were getting restless waiting for you to call and tell us how the interview went! We were not-... _God_ , you're both idiots."

Emma ranted, her indignant anger rooted in her embarrassment that her boss and her partner were acutely aware of the  _extracurricular activities_ she'd partaken in with Killian, and that they so easily assumed the two were just jumping each other's bones at any given opportunity.

Will was chuckling again, which didn't help Emma's frustration, and she glared at her phone, tempted to hang up on them. But the need to know what, if anything, had come from August's interview overshadowed her irritation at the assumptions they'd made. So, she simply gritted her teeth and chose not to comment further.

"Anything to report?"

Killian asked, trying to direct the conversation away from the decidedly more  _personal_  turn it had taken, and back to the real purpose of their call. David was silently appreciative of the redirection and took the lead once more.

"Yes, we've had quite the productive morning. Not so much from the interview though, despite August confirming that he'd met the first victim at his bar the night she died. The CCTV footage corroborates his story to a point, and we'll have Belle put together a timeline for when he dropped her off home, using traffic cams. But that's not what we wanted to tell you. He did admit to working for Gold, doing 'the odd job here and there' for him, though he did clam up when I pushed that angle."

Emma threw her gym towel around her neck and nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, if this Gold guy is as bad as you guys think he is, then I'm not surprised he shut down when you tried to squeeze him for deets. If he's worked for him, he probably knows not to cross the dude."

"That's not all," David pressed on, "Turns out, August was in the system; more specifically, he spent time in a group home run by the Mills family - back then, it was Regina Mills' mother who ran the show. He's got a juvie record, though that's just circumstantial, really, and they were all non-violent crimes. But his past could give him motive."

Emma scowled, her lips pressed into a thin line, and Killian eyed her carefully as they listened to David continue.

"He was adopted, but that doesn't rule out the idea that he could have found his birth mother, seen her living a comfortable life, and been enraged by her circumstances, still bitter that he grew up in the system. A trigger, I believe Killian's team call it, with the victims being surrogates, as we've already theorized. We're checking into every angle we possibly can, but we're going to bring him in for official questioning on the basis of his background giving him a potential motive, perhaps being a predisposing factor to resentment and violence, as well as being the last one to see one of the victims alive."

Emma's jaw was clenched and Killian fought the urge to reach out for her and softly ask her if she was okay. She was clearly angry, and her eyes were glassy, giving away the fact that something David had said had deeply upset her. It took her a moment to find her words, but when she finally spoke, her tone had a definite edge to it, emotion and anger carefully curled around every word.

"A 'predisposing factor to resentment and violence'? So, what you're saying is that you think it's reasonable to assume he's more likely to be a criminal, and a murderer at that, because he was an orphan? That's the angle you're going with?"

There was a pause, and David seemed to realize his own tactlessness, his tone apologetic.

"Emma-"

"No. Don't 'Emma' me. Is there a timescale I should know about? For when you expect  _me_  to flip the script and fulfil my inevitable destiny of turning into a homicidal orphan? Am I  _more_  likely to go on a rampage and start ripping hearts out because I was never adopted? I'd  _love_ to hear more of your preconceived ideas about what terrible people us orphans are deep down. Maybe August is the killer, or maybe he isn't and it's all a bit  _too_  convenient that everything is suddenly pointing to him. Because all you actually have right now is a shitty, judgemental theory that makes you sound like a fucking asshole. Call me when you actually have something solid."

With that, Emma hit the button to end the call, hands shaking and tears glistening in her eyes as she turned away from Killian, trying to gather her composure.

"Swan…"

"Don't try to defend that bullshit."

"I wasn't going to," Killian shook his head and tentatively reached out to touch her arm, "I was simply going to ask if you were alright."

Emma's shoulders sagged and she turned to face him once more, gaze downturned and hurt clearly etched into the soft lines of her frown. As she blinked, a lone tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed it away immediately.

"I'm okay…" she chanced a glance up at him, and seeing that he clearly didn't believe her, she sighed, "It's just...it kinda sucks to hear one of the very few people I've trusted in my life talk about my background like it makes it a given that a person who grew up the way I did would become a criminal. That we'd hurt people and resent them their happiness because we didn't have it. And I know he was talking about August, but the way he generalized...it hurts to know he thinks that way."

Without waiting for her to protest or put her walls back up, Killian pulled her into his arms, feeling her initially stiffen in surprise but quickly relax into the embrace. She rested her head against his shoulder, allowing herself to accept the silent comfort he was offering her, and choosing not to think too much about how easy it was, once again, to share such moments with him.

In many ways, she found the act of a simple comforting embrace, letting him hold her as tears slipped silently down her cheeks despite her attempts to will them away, to be more intimate than actual sex. She could keep her walls up and rationalize sex as a purely physical thing; being vulnerable and exposing her emotions in front of someone required so much more trust, at least for Emma.

"Y'know what upsets me most about it…" Emma said softly, words slightly muffled into Killian's shirt, "Maybe he's not completely wrong. I mean, I've got a record. I'm not a saint. I saw it as doing what I had to do to survive, and maybe I used a little more force than was strictly necessary anytime I was defending myself from some scumbag bailskip, when I was a teenager. And my job now isn't exactly free from violence either...we're out here trying to catch some serial murderer after all."

Killian frowned, pulling back and cupping her cheeks in his hands, thumbs brushing away her tears as he shook his head vehemently.

"No, Emma. Stop that. You went to prison for something you didn't do. And you had to be tough as nails to survive the life you had; no one could ever fault you for defending yourself. Your past doesn't define who you are as a person now though, love. And I believe you were drawn to this profession for much more altruistic reasons than wanting a violent job. You have a good heart, Swan. That much I know for certain.  _Please_  don't doubt yourself or think for a moment that your childhood has shaped you into anything other than a strong, brave, capable woman who's made it through the other side of circumstances that no one should have to experience. I have nothing but admiration for you, darling."

He smiled down at her softly and a lump of emotion lodged itself in Emma's throat as she stared back up into his eyes. The man in front of her hadn't been in her life very long at all, yet he already seemed to read her like an open book, and had no hesitation when it came to wearing his heart on his sleeve with her.

Frankly, it terrified her. And everytime she took a step forward, letting down her walls and allowing herself to be vulnerable with him, her traitorous mind would remind her that he was going to leave too. She was playing with fire and just setting herself up for a broken heart all over again by letting him tear down her walls. But as much as it scared her, a tiny part of her so desperately wanted to throw caution to the wind and take everything he was willing to offer, for the short time they'd have together.

When she dropped her gaze, Killian sensed her hesitancy and gave her the space her body language was silently telling him she needed. He stepped back, eyes still impossibly soft as he gazed at the beautiful, broken woman he was losing pieces of his heart to everyday, and nodded toward her phone.

"Perhaps you should call them back? Dave was an insensitive prat, but he cares deeply for you, Swan."

Emma shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself and feeling decidedly indignant about the idea of calling David back. Killian nodded, holding his hands up and chuckling.

"Alright, just a suggestion. I'm sure he'll call back anyway, if there's anything important we need to know. Now...how about we clean up and order food in for dinner? Maybe we could even watch a movie tonight. What do you say, love?"

Emma bit her lip, her heart feeling just a little bit lighter already, and tilted her head to consider Killian.

"Dinner and a movie? Like a date?"

Killian's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, though Emma caught it and couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips when she saw the telltale sign of the tips of his ears turning pink. He ducked his head and chuckled again.

"I didn't mean-...I just thought it might be something nice to make you feel better."

He mumbled and she stepped forward, back into his personal space, effectively silencing him. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled when he met her gaze.

"I'd like that. But I have one condition…"

Killian raised his eyebrows, heart still fluttering with her sudden proximity. When she dropped her voice to that seductive purr, he knew very well that she could ask for anything and he'd most likely give it to her more than willingly.

"Aye…?"

He answered, swallowing thickly and absently wondering when the hell the situation had become so charged considering Emma had been crying in his arms just a few minutes earlier. Her eyes were still slightly red, and the huskiness in her voice could probably be partly attributed to her earlier upset, but there was definitely some purposefulness to it as well. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip and looked up at Killian from under her lashes.

"I get to choose the takeout place  _and_  the movie."

She said airlily, grabbing her phone and making toward the stairs, throwing a smirk over her shoulder as Killian stared after her. He followed then, shaking his head with a grin and growling under his breath.

"Minx."  
  


* * *

_**CS** _

* * *

  
Emma disappeared into the bathroom as Killian pottered around the bedroom, patiently waiting for his turn to shower after their workout session. Knowing Emma was naked just a few feet away, behind the closed door of their ensuite, was enough have him keyed up and desperately trying to not replay their shared shower experience on loop in his mind.

When the door suddenly opened, Killian glanced up, surprised at how quick she'd been...and his mouth immediately went dry. Emma stood there in the doorway, wearing nothing but a coy smile as she leaned against the door frame with her gaze locked on him.

"Fuck me…"

He muttered, unable to stop his eyes from hungrily roaming the lean lines of her body. No matter how many times he was blessed with this view, he couldn't get enough. And the way her nipples pebbled under his lustful perusal gave away the fact that she wasn't exactly unaffected by him either.

"Well, that was gonna be my line," she joked, arching an eyebrow, "But I was at least gonna use the excuse of saving water and all that…"

Already shirtless, Killian made quick work of ridding himself of his pants, too, and strode toward her in the snug Calvin Klein boxers he knew she had a thing for by the way her eyes flashed with want everytime she saw him in them.

Before she had the chance to say another word, he had her pressed to the bathroom door, attacking her mouth with a bruising kiss that left her breathless and clinging to him. When he broke the kiss, he wasted no time in leading her toward the shower that she'd turned on before extending the invitation for him to join her.

They kissed lazily under the hot spray of water for long moments, content to take their time. Killian silently mused that David's presumption about their activities earlier had ended up coming to fruition, though he hoped there wouldn't be another phonecall just yet. Not until they'd had their fill of one another and temporarily sated their hunger, at least.

Letting his hand trail down from her neck to her breast and then lower, Killian revelled in how responsive Emma always was to his touch. The soft whimpers and gasps from her set his pulse on fire and had him harder than he'd ever been in his life. One look from her could get him going; being able to touch her and watch pleasure dance across her face, her skin like silk under his fingertips, he was truly a lost cause.

He slipped his hand between her legs then, and she gasped against his lips when he rubbed her roughly. He groaned in response as he felt how slick she was for him already.

"Always so responsive, sweetheart. So wet for me."

"We're in the shower."

She retorted, her sarcasm losing its edge when she punctuated it with a whimper and he pushed two fingers inside her in response, angling his hand so that his thumb could still press against her clit. She cried out, back arching, and he leaned forward to nip at the tender skin of her collarbone, his fingers continuing to thrust into her.

"If you want to come, I'd watch that sassy mouth of yours, lass."

Killian growled, dragging his teeth against her skin, causing her to shudder and let out a throaty groan.

"You love my sassy mouth and everything I do to you with it."

She breathed, eyes closed as she lost herself in the pleasure he was creating. It had never been this good with anyone, and she couldn't get enough of him or the things he could make her body do. A sharp spank on her ass had her choking on a moan and her eyes snapped open to find him watching her with unrestrained hunger and a sexy smirk.

"Aye, you're not wrong. You do have a  _very_  naughty mouth."

He was staring intently at her lips, hand still moving between her legs, and she surged forward to kiss him deeply. When she pulled back, she somewhat-reluctantly grabbed his wrist, but halting her own pleasure was worth it when she lifted his hand and wrapped her lips around two of his fingers, holding his eye contact the whole time. If he wanted naughty, she'd give him naughty.

Killian's eyes darkened even more than, and she saw him swallow hard as his gaze locked on her mouth working around his fingers the same way she'd done with other areas of his anatomy before.

"Christ, I need to fuck you."

He bit out, and she released his fingers, licking her lips and shifting her weight onto one foot so she could left her other leg and wrap it around his hip. His length rubbed against her and they both shuddered. Testing her boundaries, he lifted her leg higher and when he felt no resistance and she simply smirked and nodded, he tugged it over his shoulder. Gulping at her impressive show of flexibility, and cursing under his breath at how hot it made him, he couldn't hold back any longer and with a tilt of his hips he was pushing inside her.

Emma grasped for purchase against the shower wall, knocking over shampoo bottles on the shelf but paying no attention to it as they clattered to the floor while a guttural groan tore from her throat. She was fast becoming addicted to the way he filled her up, and how he effortlessly played her body like an instrument.

He pistoned his hips, driving into her deeply, and she met him thrust for thrust, thrilling in the desperation she knew they both felt. It was as good as it always was between them, no matter whether they went hot and heavy or slow and tender. There was always that fire that burned them both up, their bodies feeling like they were somehow made for one another when they fit so perfectly together. But she didn't want to dwell on deep thoughts like that, so instead she gave herself over to nothing but sensation. The tingling that started at the bottom of her spine and exploded outwards; the shudder that made every muscle in her body contract when he hit just the right spot.

"God, I can  _feel_  that."

Killian groaned, his lips against her neck, fucking her through the hard and fast orgasm that stole her breath and made her feel like she was floating. Pinpricks of pleasure danced under her skin as she drifted down from her high and he increased his pace. The stuttering of his hips told her he was close and she consciously squeezed him with her inner muscles, biting back her smirk as he choked on a gasp.

"Do that again, love...please."

He begged, voice hardly more than a broken whimper, and she complied with the request. Being able to wreck this gorgeous man so thoroughly was a high that nothing quite compared to. He ducked down to take a nipple in his mouth, moaning against her breast as his hips kept up their rhythm, cock moving in and out of her until he was roughly fucking her into the tiles of the shower wall with her leg still thrown over his shoulder. The position had amplified everything for both of them, the angle causing him to hit her clit with every down thrust and making frissons of electricity consume every nerve ending in her body.

He released her nipple and buried his face into the crook of her shoulder, grazing her skin with his teeth.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, Emma…"

He gasped, and a moment later reared back, pulling out of her and letting her leg drop as he wrapped his hand around himself. The head of his cock rubbed against the smooth, wet skin of her belly as he jerked once, twice, before coming with a hoarse groan. She watched as his release spurted upwards across her belly, reaching her breasts, and he gradually slowed the twists of his wrist until he started he soften in his hand. She smiled coyly, holding eye contact as she drew her finger through his seed, bringing it to her lips and wrapping her tongue around it, humming at the taste of him. He cursed quietly, staring at her in awe before she turned and stepped back under the shower to clean away the evidence of their tryst.

"God, the things you do to me, woman."

Killian muttered, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her slight frame. She leaned back into his embrace and they silently basked in the afterglow for long, blissful minutes. They then shared the sensual task of cleaning one another, an act that somehow felt even more intimate than the steamy sex they'd just engaged in, as they decided to forgo a washcloth in favor of soaped-up hands roaming one another's bodies.

That, of course, led to another round, with Killian sat on the floor of the shower and Emma riding him with abandon, screaming his name when she came hard and he finished deep inside her. By the time they left the shower, the water had long since cooled and they were both exhausted.

It was getting late, and as they dried off and changed into PJs, Killian suggested they watch a movie in bed with a takeout pizza. Emma eagerly agreed. The idea of curling up under the covers and eating her own body weight in carbs, while watching some silly comedy movie, sounded highly appealing.

So, that's what they did, laying towels on top of their bedcovers and sharing an extra large pizza with half-and-half toppings, along with a side of onion rings and some beers, while watching Deadpool. David didn't call back, and Emma decided to wait until the next day to call him, trying not to dwell on the sour note they'd ended on earlier that evening. She knew if there were any important developments, he'd call regardless, so she put it to the back of her mind.

Throughout the movie, Emma kept sneaking glances at Killian, unable to keep the smile from tugging at her lips everytime he snorted laughing around a mouthful of pizza. It was the most relaxed she'd ever seen him outside of sleeping, and if possible, he was even more handsome with a goofy grin and laugh lines. When he'd missed his mouth with a slice of pizza and a dollop of sauce had dropped onto his bare chest, Emma had been so tempted to lean over and lick it off. He'd caught her darkened gaze as he wiped it up, and smirked, somehow reading the less-than-pure thoughts running through her head.

They'd finished off the pizza and onion rings, and polished off a couple of beers each, and by the end of the movie, they were both stifling yawns. After disposing of the empty boxes and bottles, while Killian folded and put away the bath towels they'd used to keep grease from getting on the bedcovers, she returned to the bedroom to find her lover had passed out the second his head hit the pillow.

Smiling at the adorable sight of him sleeping so soundly, mouth open and a little bit of pizza sauce on his chin, she slipped into bed beside him, being careful not to wake him. As she did so, she heard the soft buzz of her cell phone beside her on the bedside table, and quickly reached for it. Holding her breath, with a knot made of half anticipation and half dread tightening in her stomach when she saw it was a text from WIll, she quickly opened it.

" _Just so ya know, I'm sorry me and Dave were prats today. Well, ok, not even me really. But I'm sorry for embarassin ya with the whole 'we thought you was fuckin' thing. And Dave's sorry for bein an insensitive knobhead. You okay?"_

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. No new victims and no dramatic revelations to contend with that evening. She shook her head as she typed out a reply to Will.

" _Yeah, I'm alright. And David was an asshole, so he should feel bad. But I know it wasn't intentional, and that he didn't mean to suggest all of us orphans are destined to be shitty people."_

" _You know he doesn't think that, Swan. None of us do."_

Emma rolled her eyes, biting back the bitterness on her tongue and refusing to let things turn sour again, so she changed the subject.

" _Nothing new with August?"_

" _Nah. I'm pullin a late one tonight to try and dig up anythin else I can find. We're gonna bring him in again tomorrow, so I'll keep ya updated with that. What you doin up late anyways?"_

Emma glanced at Killian sleeping beside her and smiled, lifting her phone to snap a quick picture of him and sending it to Will with a soft chuckle.

" _We watched a movie and ate pizza. This lightweight passed out. Pizza coma, I think. Hopefully not fatal."_

Will immediately sent her a line of smirking emojis in response, which she countered with a rolling eyes one.

" _Bet the pizza ain't the only thing that tired him out tonight, eh?"_

Emma felt her cheeks burn and was glad of the fact that her friend couldn't see that through texts.

" _Shut up."_

" _Ha, not denyin it this time then, Swan?!"_

He responded gleefully, his text accompanied by a gif of the kid from Home Alone wiggling his eyebrows. Emma rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to laugh.

" _You're really annoying, did anyone ever tell you that?"_

She knew she was actively avoiding answering his question, and that in itself was answer enough. There was no use denying what was going on with Killian to her bestfriend, when he'd already witnessed it first-hand. She cringed as she remembered that fact, and watched the three dots on the screen telling her he was tying a response.

" _Aye, you've pretty much told me every day since we met. I'd despair if we broke that daily tradition now, luv. But honestly? I'm happy for ya, Swan. He seems like a good fella and you ain't exactly one for lettin yer walls down for no one. So ya must like him a lot. And that ain't nothin to be embarrassed about. Specially cos I seen the way he looks at ya. The bloke adores ya."_

Emma felt her throat tighten as she stole another glance at Killian. Her vision blurred as tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back. Her hands trembled slightly as she responded to the text, exhaling a shaky sigh.

" _Have you turned into a massive sap while I've been gone? He's hot and he's not exactly terrible to be stuck in a house with. But I'm not out here planning a real wedding or anything, jeez. We have sex. Really good sex. But we both have lives to go back to after we close this case, so I'm not making it into something more than what it is."_

The tiny voice at the back of her mind whispered traitorously at her that even  _she_  didn't believe that. But she was still trying to convince herself it was true, in some weak attempt at making their future goodbyes marginally easier, if that was at all possible.

" _Hmm. Whatever you say, mate. Long as I get to be ya maid of honor when ya come to ya senses. Or man of honor. Whatevs. I'd rock a dress an we all know it."_

Emma flushed and rolled her eyes, despite the quiet laugh she couldn't help bubbling up from her chest. Only he could get away with insinuating that she'd end up marrying Killian without Emma immediately biting his head off. With a jaw-cracking yawn, she fired off a response.

" _You've lost your goddamn mind, buddy. Maybe Ruby'll let you wear a dress and be her maid/man of honor. Anyway. I'm gonna call it a night before you think up anymore ridiculous ideas. Don't work too hard. And text me with updates tomorrow."_

" _A'ight love,"_  Will replied quickly, along with another smirk emoji,  _"I'll let you go cuddle up with loverboy and get some sleep. And yeah, I'll text you everythin tomorrow. Love ya. Ps. Don't forget to use condoms, I ain't ready to be an uncle yet."_

With a growl of amused exasperation, Emma simply replied by flipping him off via emoji, and then set her phone on the bedside table again. He was a piece of work, but she loved the idiot dearly. He was the brother she'd never had, and as annoying as he could be, she did treasure their relationship. Turning to face Killian, she absently wondered what things would have been like for them if they'd met under different circumstances, and if their time together didn't have an expiration date. She couldn't help but wonder if he could have been someone she'd have a treasured relationship with, if things had been different for them. But as she drifted off, the only thought in her mind was that it didn't matter...because she already felt that way, regardless of the circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for the patience and encouragement of those of you who are still with me and have been waiting for this update for way too long.  
> Also big thank yous to whoever nominated this lil fic in the OUAT Fandom Awards on Tumblr, and voted it into the finals alongside two fics/writers that I mega admire!  
> Here's hoping my muse and my shifts at work play nicely together so the next update doesn't take quite as long.


End file.
